Two Sides of the Same Coin
by Unknownmusic
Summary: Albus Severus Potter had always been different - not that anybody knows. Beneath that sweet Gryffindor mask lies a different side to him and when the Muggle world discovers wizardry, Albus's unknown side might be the only thing capable of saving magic.
1. The Hidden

**I do not own Harry Potter.**

***NOTE: I have not written any new chapters since yesterday (2/18). I only split my first chapter into three so it doesn't seem as daunting...my thanks to Silvanus Zed for the advice :) **

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><p>One of the many things people didn't expect Albus Severus Potter to be was a Dark Wizard. Al himself hadn't even given such a prospect a second thought until he had realized the truth. His siblings were too narrow-minded to recognize it. They couldn't recognize truth even if it slapped them in the face.<p>

Al didn't think them stupid. Quite the contrary, he thought them absolutely brilliant. His younger sister, Lily, was now a second year Ravenclaw and the brightest witch of her entire house. His older brother, James, was Gryffindor's prodigy sixth year Chaser and probably the greatest prankster to have existed since the Mauraders. Contrary to normal thought, pranking required a much more extensive knowledge of magic in order to pull off a magical prank correctly.

No, Al didn't even think for a second that they were stupid. As arrogant as it sounded, brilliance seemed to run in the family. All three rather enjoyed an adrenaline rush and all were more than worthy of being the great Harry Potter's children. Nobody could deny that Lily, James, and Albus Potter were worthy additions to the Wizarding World.

Potter was a Light name. It always had been. Anybody who was a Potter was a Light Wizard and a member of Gryffindor. It was a common _fact_. Lily and James had matched those requirements perfectly. Al took a considerably different direction from the norm – not that anybody was aware of it.

Al went to great lengths to hide his differences. When he had first been Sorted, he had begged the Hat to place him in Gryffindor despite the Hat's preferance of Slytherin. He had wanted Gryffindor because he thought that was what he needed to do. It was a matter of honor more than anything else. But Al quickly realized that he just didn't fit in.

First of all, Gryffindors were brave to the point of recklessness. Al wasn't like that at all. If he had the option of running from an all-powerful enemy, he would have taken it whether honor dictated it or not. It was better to live to fight another day. Second, while not all Gryffindors were slackers, the majority preferred to stall their studying. Al didn't. He loved to read and absorbed everything he learned like a sponge. He often preferred burying his head in a book rather than chatting with his housemates. Third, Gryffindors wore their hearts on their sleeves and Al did anything but. He would hide his emotions, plaster on fake smiles, and speak as sweetly as he needed to in order to gain favor with those he knew would be to his advantage. He would quietly manipulate relationships to work in his favor and convince others to act as he wished them to. Nobody ever noticed what he was doing; Gryffindors weren't supposed to be cunning and sly so they never searched for those traits in him. As much as Al hated it, he often had to force himself to participate in more Gryffindor acts for the majority of his first years.

It was only during his third year that he began to realize that perhaps he wasn't going down the path in life that he wanted. Sure he was accepted by the majority of the school and everbody hailed him as one of the great "Potter Three", but he himself wasn't happy. More often than not, he would catch himself observing Slytherins and watching how they manipulated other houses and even each other. It was always a formal, political dance with them and somehow that attracted Al. He hated anything to do with public speaking or public events, but Al loved the mental battles politics and noble families often carried with them. He would watch how gracefully Slytherins moved and how they were consistently rude yet polite at the same time. Al, more or less, began to mimic their actions and had to catch himself more than once from telling somebody that they were using the wrong fork for the wrong entrée.

By then, it was blatently obvious that he should have gone to Slytherin. It had only taken Al three years to realize it. Everyday he sought to find some niche in Gryffindor to suit him and found none. But it didn't matter to Al. It didn't matter if he was happy. More than anything, he didn't want to disappoint his father.

Harry James Potter had mysteriously died after defeating the Dark Lord Voldemort. He had become the true Savior of the Wizarding World only to suddenly catch a lethal vein of magical poisoning a few days later. Nobody had been accused of murdering the Chosen One. He had been with friends all hours until his untimely death. Yet people still idolized him for killing the magical world's largest menace and Al had grown up hoping to be like his hero father. That couldn't happen if he had chosen Slytherin, but Al's deermination had been slowly withering away as he found himself more and more dissatisfied.

Al was great in his classes but something about the magic never satisfied him. He would learn a disarming spell in a matter of minutes only to feel angry for no other reason than the fact that it was just a disarming spell. He couldn't quite put his tongue on it, but the magic Al was learning didn't satiate him.

"Al!" exclaimed a voice.

The dissatisfied fourth year Gryffindor jumped out of his thoughts and turned away from his Charms homework to face his hyper sister. "Lily," he said in exasperation. "Didn't I tell you not to do that to me?"

Many said Lily looked like her mother's spitting image. Her unruly locks hung in red waves over her shoulders and her slightly freckled face belied her intelligent yet adventurous nature. Some of the professors said that she matched her mother's temper as well and Al couldn't help but agree with them in that regard.

"It's Quidditch tryouts today! Did you forget?"

Al _had_ forgotten. He found the sport rather lacking and thought that more brain cells were lost to bludgers than to mental disease. But he couldn't admit that being a Potter could he? He was supposed to be a Quidditch fanatic and a fantastic player. Al was actually a rather talented Seeker but he made sure that his skills were just a little worse than needed and had evaded any questions of his skill.

"Oh!" Al said in fake astonishment and excitement. "Thanks for reminding me, Lily! I couldn't possibly miss that! Maybe I'll make it on this year."

His sister gave him a pitying smile. That irked Al to no end. She would undoubtfully make it on the team as a Chaser this year with James. She had a hidden viciousness to her that nobody saw unless they were on the Quiddich field. But because Al pretended to only be a little-better-than-a-decent Seeker, both of his siblings treated him like a little child not quite out of his diapers yet. The fact that his _younger_ sister joined his elder brother in such acts continuously made Al a little irritated. Al might have thought his siblings to be far from stupid, but they were true Gryffindors at heart and they had never seen past his façade. He was what they wanted him to be.

"I'll see you down at the pitch," Al managed to bite out without too much irritation. "Why don't you get a head start? I have to finish this essay before I follow."

"Okay," she grinned and promptly disappeared out the common room.

Al sighed and rolled away the parchment he had been writing on. He had finished the essay ages ago but that particular assignment had been for his own pleasure. He had been researching other ways to use Charms beyond the common household and glamour uses. He would have liked to continue but he could only ignore his Gryffindor mates for so long.

He carefully placed his belongings in the trunk at the foot of his bed. Al placed a multitude of locking spells around it before returning to the common room and out of the portrait. He quickly strode through the halls and out to the Quidditch pitch. It was a marvelous day – perfect for tryouts. Al scowled. A little rain and he could have had an excuse to remain in the common room. Pity.

Al caught sight of James preparing for tryouts. He had been named the Gryffindor Quidditch Captain this year and Al had heard more about the new badge than anything else out of his brother's mouth for the past few weeks. He longed to just put a silencing spell on James but that wouldn't have fit his perfect little Gryffindor image.

"James!" he called with his traditional plastered grin.

His older brother brightened. He had inherited their mother's looks as well. His hair was a brilliant red and it hung in the messiest way possible. A few freckles here and there were also visible and his lopsided grin marked him his mother's child. "Hey Al! Glad you could make it again! I think you have a pretty good chance of making the team this year. There's only two other people trying and I've heard that they're little more than beginners."

"What about Harper?" Al asked feeling a little sick. Harper had been Gryffindor's Seeker ever since he had first come to Hogwarts a year ago and he had been good enough for Al to finally pass off his act as more than just an act. James seemed to have been suspecting Al before the younger Gryffindor had stepped in with his fairly good skill. Since Harper had been younger than Al, he had been counting on his underclassman to continuously "outshine" him.

"Oh, the Seeker from last year? Well he skills were pretty good. He did win us a couple of games. But he had to do a lot of extra practice and he nearly didn't pass his first year because of it. Professor Longbottom won't let him play again until he can continuously keep his grades up."

_Damn. _It was at times like this Al didn't like Gryffindor's Head of House. Professor Longbottom had been his father's good friend from what he'd heard and the man had really stood out as the brave type. But right now Al just wanted to wring the jolly Herbology teacher's neck or, even better, wring one of his _plant's_ neck. That would throw the man into a fit.

"Oh…well that's great!" Al had to really try to keep the enthusiasm in his voice.

Luckily, the other two weren't as bad as his brother had first proclaimed them to be. The first was a third year and had been good but not as good as the second year that went after. Al managed to make a decent effort on his part and only caught the snitch precisely a mere three seconds later than the second year had. James had appeared disappointed but Al was once again not on the team.

Al nearly jumped for joy at the prospect of another year free from a perilious sport. Now he could go back to his Charms books and maybe he would have time for Defense Against the Dark Arts extra reading. That was one subject that held Al's attention more than anything else. Something about such combat magic lured him in. He was the undisputed champion of the school in that subject. The other subjects he battled other bright students but he was at the top of the ladder when it came to Defense Against the Dark Arts.

"So the little Potter didn't make it on the team?"

Al had to keep from groaning aloud. "What do you want, Parkinson?"

The rather over-masculine Slytherin male made a pathetic attempt at an evil smirk. Honestly, Al could do better and he was supposed to be one of Gryffindor's pride and joy. Gryffindors never smirked but that didn't stop Al from flashing one once in a while.

"Just wondering why even your little sister has better eye-hand coordination than you."

Al had grown used his bullying classmate years ago. "Okay, thanks for wondering." He tried to brush past Parkinson's considerably larger bulk but only succeeded in finding himself face to face with the Slytherin's vast chest.

"Potters," the boy spat. "All a bunch of spoiled little brats." Parkinson was sounding eerily like the Potions Master, Professor Snape, right now. "You get everything you want and you don't even bother speaking to a Slytherin like me. Do you think we're all a bunch of Death Eaters too?"

Al shot the larger boy an innocent look. "I don't think Slytherins are like that."

Parkinson laughed. "I can see through your lies, Potter. Save it for Longbottom or those little fans of yours."

Al was getting bored. "Alright, I will. Can you please move now?"

"I don't think so. I think your little prejudice should be punished."

Either Parkinson was getting dumber by the year or Al was losing his touch. Everybody knew better than to challenge Albus Potter. Those who did often found themselves hurting for weeks afterward. He wasn't the top of Defense Against the Dark Arts for nothing.

"Look, Parkinson, like you said, I just came back from a disappointing tryout. Isn't that punishment enough?"

The next thing Al knew he was sprawled on the grass with his nose bleeding profusely. Half of his face stung from the blow and he was fairly sure that some bone had broken. Parkinson may have been a complete dud with a wand but Al had foolishly forgotten that he was more than capable of using his gigantic, meaty fists on Al's thin form.

A sadistic smile spread across Parkinson's face. "Like that, Potter? That's what justice feels like!"

Really. Could the poor kid get any more pathetic? What sort of Slytherin went around proclaiming things like _justice_? Al couldn't hide the small grin despite the astounding pain that shot up with the movement. He found a second later that a marvelously black eye would now accompany his broken nose the next day.

"What's so funny, Potter? Think I'm funny?"

Sometimes, Al wished he hadn't been born with that traditional Gryffindor recklessness when he replied, "Absolutely. You're hilarious." He only ended up with yet another black eye to contend to.

"You think you're so mighty. You're not even a Pureblood. Disgusting Half-Blood."

Al struggled to speak with through the pain. "Actually, I'm a Three-Fouths-Blood if you really wanted to be specific." Al tensed in preparation for another attack but only found silence. Strange.

"Having one Mudblood in the line is enough to ruin it all. Your filthy grandmother proved that when your precious _daddy_ died. What kind of decent wizard gets _magical_ poisoning?"

Now that was a touchy subject and Parkinson knew it. So that was what the silence was for. The poor bloke had to actually think of something clever. But it had worked and Al's façade faltered. A look of blatent fury crossed his features before he could compose himself and the bully jumped on it like a predator stalking prey.

"That's right. Your daddy was just a fluke, a fake. All of those articles in the _Daily Prophet_ were true. If your daddy was a real wizard, he wouldn't have gotten pathetic magical poisoning. Nobody dies from something that stupid."

"Shut up," Al snarled. He wouldn't stand for this. He may not have known his father but he knew what circumstances he must have grown up in. Al had grown up with fame but he had shared fame. His father had to deal with it all on his own with the added pressure of an insane Dark Lord out to kill him. "You have no right to say that. My father was more than ten of yours combined."

Now that stung Parkinson, Al knew. Pureblood lines protected their head of house fiercely with it being such a patriarchial society. "I would control my tongue if I were you, Potter."

Al opened his mouth to retort only to snap it shut at the sight of Professor Longbottom making his way over. Parkinson might have been daft but even he was smart enough to shut his own mouth and walk away before the professor made it close enough to say something. Al didn't move. He just sat on the grass fuming to himself. What did Parkinson know? Harry Potter was somebody Al tried to be every day. His father was an amazing person; so many people backed up such a belief. His Uncle Ron and Aunt Hermione told him so every time he went over to visit. Headmistress McGonagall always praised Harry Potter, Ms. Lovegood always spoke fondly about him, Mr. Creevey adored him, Professor Longbottom respected him, Professor Flitwick remembered him fondly, the Falmouth Falcon's Chaser Wood admired his Seeking skill, and everybody else Al had ever asked had said only good things about his father. The only exception might have been Professor Snape. The Potions Master was often neutral.

Al honestly didn't know why he was so protective of his father's name. He had read many psychology books despite his mother's disapproval and reasoned that he most likely did so in order to nurture an image of a father he never had. The missing influence of an older male (James didn't count) had never been in Albus's life so he often searched for it and created one instead. But it hurt too much to think of it that way. It was so much better to think that he was truly living up to his father's legacy; it gave Al a goal to work towards and a reason to keep going.

"Are you alright, Albus?" Professor Longbottom asked worriedly. He took out his wand and began to mutter a healing charm but Al held up a hand to stop him.

"I'll be fine," Al managed to whisper painfully. "I can take care of myself."

The professor frowned. "If this is your definition of 'fine' then I worry about you."

Al ignored him and pushed himself up with his hands. He felt a sudden flash of dizziness but he bit his cut lips and took a step forward.

"I think you should pay a visit to Madame Promfrey."

Al tried not to scowl. He knew the logical choice would be to agree with the professor. Why should he refuse help when he was clearly in need of it? Al wasn't stupid. He prided himself on the fact he wasn't like other Gryffindors who were too proud to accept help when they needed it most. But it was at times like this when he felt vulnerable and weak. It was at times like this when he couldn't help but give into his pride and take the Gryffindor route.

"I'm fine, professor…please, I'm okay." He winced as he spoke before staggering away as quickly as he could and leaving Professor Longbottom at a loss of words. Each step sent a blot of lighting pain up Al's skull but he could have cared less. He had a much larger issue at hand: he was struggling not to cry. Al hadn't felt the urge to cry since his potty training days. So why was it happening now? Was he finally hitting puberty at the ripe age of fourteen? But then again, only girls had mood swings. He refused to blame it on Parkinson's words. That in itself would be admitting to weakness. How could he be on the verge of tears at a mere bully's words? He had gone through worse, much worse.

But the verse in the psychology books wouldn't leave Al alone. It had been years since that particular memory had surfaced and it stung. He wanted to look away from it but he knew he couldn't. It would just come back to bother him time and time again. Damn curiosity. So what if he needed to imagine his father as his goal? So what? Maybe he needed something to lean on. Maybe he needed that goal.

Al was halfway up the stairs to the Gryffindor Common Room when it suddenly shifted. He wobbled in place as the sudden shift made him feel oddly sick and reached out for support – only to find himself grasping open air. Al opened his mouth to let out a cry of surprise but only managed out a loud moan. Just moving his jaw hurt right now. God, why did Parkinson have to be so _fat_?

He lost his footing and desperately tried to maintain control. If he could just maintain a slight balance until the stairs connected to another, he would be alright. But apparently some force of the universe hated him because he lost his balance before the stairs were anywhere close to another landing and he began to fall headfirst.

Al couldn't stop the panicked yell coming from his mouth. He would be ashamed of such a show of weakness if he survived but in the moment it only seemed right to be terrified. Normally, Al would have used his wand to cast a slowing spell or a cushioning spell but somehwere along the way his wand had fallen out of his robes. If he survived, not only would he have to face the humiliation of screaming like a girl but also the fact that he should have thought to buy a wand holster. That didn't even include the sad reminder that he should never give into his sad pride again.

Al flew by another moving set of stair and desperatly made a grab for it. He briefly felt a flash of hope as his fingers brushed the wooden steps but he had caught on to the connecting edge of the stairs and he was unfortunate enough to have his fingers crushed as the stair connected to a landing. It was grinding his fingers as it tried to connect properly. A scream of pain this time escaped Al's mouth and he couldn't help but viciously hate whoever had come up with the idea of moving stairs. Who trusted teenagers enough to safely move through these things?

Fortunately, or unfortunately, his grip hadn't been that strong and the pain of getting his fingers caught had caused him to go into free-fall again. Al could see the ground coming ever closer and it was just his luck that no student happened to be passing by. There was nobody down in the hallway; most had gone to see the Quidditch tryouts.

Al closed his eyes as the ground caught up to him and felt a blinding pain as his head cracked against the stone floor before falling into blackness.


	2. The Beginning

**I do not own Harry Potter**

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><p>Severus Snape didn't like Quidditch. Sure, he enjoyed the inter-House competition (especially since Slytherin had been continuously winning) but the actual sport itself repulsed the Potions Master. Whoever wanted to risk their lives balancing on a broomstick of all things with dangerous projectiles spelled to atually hurt others was beyond him.<p>

That was precisely why he was just happening to make his way back to his office without stopping at the Quidditch tryouts. He knew his snakes wouldn't mind. They often forgot he was there anyway. The prospect of an entire afternoon to himself cheered him up somewhat and he actually began to hum to himself as he strolled the empty halls. He must be getting old. Severus Snape certainly didn't hum.

He was in a rather cheerful mood until he turned the corner and came face to face with what could only be described as a Potter calamity. Only Potters could possibly get themselves in such situations.

The first thing Severus noticed was the blood. He had seen a lot more of it than he cared to during his time as a Death Eater and as a spy. The last few years of respite had pushed the majority of those unpleasant memories to the back of his mind. But there was just _so much_ blood here that he couldn't help but think back to those times. There was a large pool of the crimson liquid slowly oozing from the limp body of Albus Potter.

Although Severus hated all Potters on a principle, he couldn't help but admit that Albus was different. Severus by no means liked the boy but it was rather difficult to have such animosity towards somebody who had your name as their middle name. Harry Potter had clearly remembered Severus's role in the war to give his child such a middle name.

But that was not the only thing that caused Severus to tolerate the boy. Albus was particularly bright. Severus almost never found any reason to single the boy out; he was eerily immaculate in everything he did. His siblings were quite the opposite: they would talk back to him and challenge him. But Albus would just quietly brew his potion and leave behind a perfect vial of whatever he had set out to make. There was no fuss, no nonsense with that boy and Severus instinctively knew that out of the three Potter children, Albus was different.

Severus didn't panic at the sight of a near-lifeless body. Most would have if they didn't have a history of dealing with such gruesome sights daily. As it was, Severus quickly made his way to the boy's side.

"Albus," Severus said in a firm voice. "Can you hear me?"

There was no reply.

Severus knelt down to have a better view. The boy looked like his jaw had been popped a little and his nose was bent and broken. His eyes were a nasty swollen purple shade and his lips were badly cut. Severus noticed that the boy's right hand fingers were all broken and much of the skin had been torn off. The most serious injury was the child's head.

Severus automatically chanted multiple spells to lessen the bleeding and repair the most serious injuries. Then he cautiously levitated the boy and began to walk towards the Hospital Wing. He paused just as he was halfway down the hall and realized that Poppy was gone on an emergency call to St. Mungo's. Severus sighed and turned back towards his quarters and picked up his pace. If he didn't move quickly, this Potter might not open his eyes again.

~0~

Al opened his eyes to a terrible throbbing in his head and the sensation of oddly comfortable sheets that smelled like hazelwood and warm potions. He momentarily thought that he had perhaps fallen asleep down in the common room again but he had never woken up in the common room with sheets covering him and the Gryffindor common room certainly didn't have silver and green everywhere.

Then the memory of the last few hours caught up to Albus and he incredulously wondered why he was alive. Had somebody found him? That was the most likely conclusion, but who? Al couldn't help but feel a slight pull of dread at what the clues pointed towards. Only one House favored the colors green and silver.

"So you're awake, Potter."

Al jumped a little at the drawl and gasped a second later in pain. His right hand throbbed from the slight jump and felt a flash of pain through his head that nearly sent him back into unconsciousness.

"I wouldn't move if I were you," Professor Snape's silky voice continued.

This was the worst possible situation. The Head of Slytherin had caught him at his weakest. A normal Gryffindor would have been screaming to get out or at least accusing the man of something foolish like he was holding them captive. But for the first time in years, Al felt too tired and drained to do anything, let alone put up his façade. Instead, he mumbled, "I'm sorry, Professor."

Severus was surprised at the quiet voice. Did a Potter just apologize? That was unheard of. The words placed him at a small tilt of confusion and the silence seemed to prompt the boy to fill the silence.

"I don't mean to offend you, sir, but why aren't I at the Hospital Wing?"

A factual question. Severus could deal with that. "I'm afraid Madame Pomfrey is out on an emergency." He sneered. "Am I not good enough for you, Potter?"

A look of slight remorse entered the young child's eyes. "No. No, I didn't mean that at all Professor…did you find me?"

Severus felt a pull at his conscious (or what was left of it) at the remorse. He hadn't expected that either. "Yes, I did Mr. Potter. What, may I ask, could have convinced you to take a nice dive off one of the towers?"

A flash of fury entered Albus's eyes but it quickly disappeared. "I didn't jump. I fell."

For all of his years at Hogwarts, Severus had never heard of one of the students falling off the moving stairs. Now that he really thought about it, the very idea of moving stairs around pubescent students was ridiculous. Yet Severus was still wondering where the blackened eyes had come from and how such an observant boy could have missed a step. Of all people, Albus wasn't one for clumsiness. But Severus decided this was not the time to push the boy. After all, the child had just barely avoided death. The fall had crushed his skull and had taken all of Severus's potions and past skill in healing to keep the boy from never returning.

Al was confused. Of all the people to save him, it had to be Professor Snape. But while the man was still his traditionally snarky self, Al could sense something different about him. In a classroom setting he was far more cold and unapproachable. Right now, being alone with the man just made him seem respectably intimidating.

"Sir?" Al asked. "How long was I asleep?"

"It's been two days since the Quidditch tryouts," the professor smoothly answered.

Al paled a little. What would the Gryffindors think? He had refused Professor Longbottom's help – the Head of their House! Yet the Head of Slytherin was the one nursing him back to health. If this wasn't fate's idea of irony, Al didn't know what was.

"I'm sorry to have been such a bother."

A brief look of surprise graced the Potion Master's features before he replied, "If you hadn't noticed, Potter, it was a Friday when you fell and it's only Sunday today. It has been a weekend and I certainly couldn't just leave you to your own devices."

Al tentatively asked, "But…does Professor Longobottom know where I am?"

"Your Head knows," Snape confirmed. "But he is rather lacking in healing and potions knowledge so we agreed that while Madame Pomfrey's gone, I should help you."

The professor suddenly moved closer to the bedside and Al instinctively flinched away. Embarrassed, Al settled back a little closer but the older wizard just continued on as if he hadn't noticed anything out of the ordinary. He carefully inspected Al's right hand and placed new bandages around it. When the professor's fingers touched his face, Al couldn't help but turn a bright red. Not even his mother had been this intimate with him in a long time. But Al knew this wasn't intimacy, it was necessity. The man had to touch his face to know the extent of his injuries and how they were healing. His fingers were surprisingly gentle and Al found himself relaxing more than he would have liked with their touch. Al winced as the fingers moved into his hair to touch a sensitive spot towards the back of his head.

"Try to relax, Potter. You only crushed the back of your skull with your little tumble."

Al was absolutely horrified. Crushed his skull? Didn't that mean brain damage? He couldn't afford that. Al valued knowledge and how could he ever keep such values once his precious brain was damaged?

Professor Snape seemed to notice the panic in his eyes. His voice took on a softer tone and he quietly said, "There was no damage I couldn't heal, Potter. Calm down."

Al relaxed but the pain in the back of his head wasn't going away even though the professor had removed his fingers.

"Take this," said Snape, handing Al a vial. The younger wizard immediately recognized it as a Dreamless Sleeping Drought. How had the professor known he was prone to nightmares when he was sick or injured?

Al grasped the vial and quickly swallowed. "I never did like the taste of those potions," Al slurred as he felt a bout of drowsiness. Sleep seemed to have loosened his tongue. "Maybe you could spend less time investigating how to improve Felix Felicis and spend more time creating potions that taste good."

After the boy had collapsed back into the pillows, Severus quietly picked up the vial and looked down at the sleeping boy. Obviously, the child read the monthy potions articles. He was strange. No Gryffindor read those things. No Gryffindor read unless necessary. Period. But Albus was different.

More than anything, his appearance proved it all. His siblings had the flaming red features and perkiness of their mother. Albus looked nothing like them. His hair was a raven black and it hung in smooth locks. His skin was as smooth and pale as alabaster and he seemed to move with an air of grace the other two didn't have – even lying sick in bed. Al seemed to be the very definition of aristocratic with his features. His skinnier form, high cheekbones, and angled face screamed "I'm better than you". But to Severus, the real defining factor were the eyes. James and Lily Potter had hazel eyes. Albus Potter was the only one of the three to inherit his grandmother's piercing emerald shade.

Severus would have never admitted it but, for a brief second, he had contemplated brushing those smooth locks out of the boy's face.

~0~

"Eat up, Potter."

Al couldn't help but glare a little angrily at the professor. He would not stoop to this. As much as the man meant well, Al would not allow this. "Sir, I'm perfectly capable of feeding myself."

"If you call that last disaster of a meal 'perfectly capable' then I'd hate to see what you'd be like perfectly incapable," Professor Snape sneered.

"I can feed myself," Al stubbornly replied. "I'll just use my left hand again."

"Once again, Potter, I would not like the sheets of my guest bed filled with soup. It was rather trying enough the last time you did it. I'm not enjoying this any more than you are so just silence yourself and eat what I feed you."

Al sulked for a moment before he realized that the professor wasn't going to budge. He was extremely hungry and the prospect of being fed began to become more and more appealing as the seconds ticked by.

"Fine," Al snapped.

The soup turned out to be delicious after he tasted more than a spoonful (he had spilled the majority last time).

"Did you elves make this?"

Professor Snape raised his eyebrows. "I did, Potter."

To say Al was taken aback might have been the understatement of the century. The feared Potions Master cooking? The very idea of the dark man in an apron sent Al into an uncontrollable fit of laughter.

"Potter! What in Merlin's name is so hilarious?"

Al had to heave in a few great breaths before replying, "You cook?"

"There's nothing wrong or difficult about cooking when you have magic to do it for you," the professor drawled.

Al shook his head with a slight grin touching his lips. He had been in the Slytherin's care for about four days now since his fall. At first, the atmosphere had been tense and uncomfortable. For some reason, Al had trouble controlling his façade in front of this particular wizard and it had left him confused and little more than irritated. But the more time Al spent around the feared dungeon's bat, the more he felt at ease. Something about this man told of hardship and Al felt that he could connect to that. Nothing in Al's life had ever been particularly _hard_ but he felt a sort of kindred connection, as lame as it sounded. The man actually listened – and Al meant _really_ listened – when he spoke and he seemed to take him seriously. No other professor did that. They just spoke to him like another child and it had always irked Al to no end. The professor himself was rather unpredictable. Al could normally adjust his façade to those surrounding him because he could read the people so well. But the professor was a whole different story. Al couldn't read him at all. He was like a slippery slate he just couldn't quite grasp. The combination of a small equality and uncertainty made Al behave less like a Gryffindor and more like himself.

Severus Snape could have said the same. He had never been so open to anybody before. Granted, he was still schooling his features and controlling himself but the Potter child just always kept him on his toes. The boy was amazingly perceptive and caught even the tiniest hint Severus let slip from his mask. Severus had spent a grand total of seventy two hours (he had to teach, didn't he?) with the child and he had never felt so relaxed before. Gone was the quiet, perfect boy Severus knew everyday in Potions. A certain silent fierceness came from Albus Potter and his cleverness astounded the Potions Master. If he hadn't known any better, he would have thought that he was speaking to one of his more cunning Dark Slytherins. Maybe this child was wasted on the Light.

When Al finished the last of the soup, the two sat in companionable silence. Severus preferred to think of it as a meditative quiet that was necessary for Albus's recovery. Al shot the professor a glance before asking, "Sir, you're a Dark wizard aren't you?"

Severus tensed. That was a serious accusation coming from a Light wizard's mouth. In the Ministry's terms any wizard deemed truly Dark was sentenced to immediate death or at least life imprisonment.

"I'd be careful with your wording, Potter."

But Al was relentless. He had watched the older wizard for the past few days and he realized that there was something different about the man's magic. It seemed much more intimate and intruiging than what Al had come across so far.

"I don't mean to insult you, professor. I'm not saying that you were ever a Death Eater or anything." Al was interested to notice that the man tensed even more at the mention of the Death Eaters. "I'm just curious. I know there are different sides to magic…but I've always wondered about Dark magic."

Severus didn't know how much he should reveal. Potter didn't seem like he was out to catch potential Death Eaters. The thing that prompted Severus to answer was the honest burning of curiosity in the young wizard's eyes. "Wondering is good but few can handle the Dark Arts."

Al was immediately offended and he snapped, "What makes you think I can't?"

For the first time in decades, a wry smile graced Severus Snape's features. "If you're truly interested, I'd suggest using that Invisibility Cloak of yours. Leaving it to collect dust in your trunk is hardly the way to go about it."


	3. A Vague Idea

**I do not own Harry Potter.**

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><p>Al hesitated as he came to a pause in front of the Restricted Section. He wanted to know so badly but years of hearing the dangers of Dark magic sent his senses on overdrive. What if he became addicted? What if he turned out like <em>Voldemort<em>? His father must be writhing in his grave by the fact that Al had ever even considered learning about the Dark Arts. That thought was what kept Al from satiating his curiousity his entire life. If he stepped into the Restricted Section now, he knew he wouldn't be able to go back. Was it really worth it?

After Professor Snape had given Al that curious message about his Invisibility Cloak (how had the man known about it anyway?), he had impatiently spent another two days under the man's care. They had many pleasant conversations about potions and spells but Al had been eager to follow on his professor's advice. The very second he was deemed healthy enough to return to his fellow students, Al had begun planning when he would sneak into the Restricted Section. He had been so zealous about it that he hadn't given when his father might think a thought until now.

But the Dark Arts couldn't be as evil as so many painted it to be. The professor had as good as admitted that he was of the Dark back in his quarters and he seemed nothing like a crazed wizard. If anything, Al had finally found an adult to truly admire. If the Dark created such a product, it couldn't possibly be that bad. With that thought in mind, Al steeled himself and stepped over the small chain holding the sign "Restricted".

Al immediately shivered. He could almost feel the Darker aura oozing from the books around him. He cautiously made his way down the aisles while scanning the spines. His eyes eventually caught on a book titled _The True Nature of the Dark_ and another named _The Art to Rituals_. He carefully pulled the dusty books from their places and gingerly held them. This was Al's first contact with something Dark (aside from Professor Snape himself) and he felt an odd reverance for the moment.

The books were fascinating to say the least. Al just couldn't stop reading. Each sentence held his gaze and he was enraptured. How could anybody ever consider this evil? Perhaps the rituals required blood but that was it. Nobody needed to die from a little cut. Most of the magic he read about and the nature of it just seemed more intimate and held far more consequences. Dark Magic tapped its power from the outside – from the ambient magic surrounding the world. Light Magic came from within and was therefore not "corrupt" by outside forces. Light Magic didn't require rituals but they also could never give a wizard the intimacy Dark Magic could.

But more so than the magic, Al quickly found himself in an entirely different society. He could see why Dark families were so formal and polite and aristocratic. The pure amount of magic passed down with no non-magic blood was probably quite a privilege. Al didn't support their prejudices though and only found that perhaps pure magical blood gave certain advantages. The members of the Dark were fiercely loyal to other like them because the Dark was so small. Many could understand the Light but few were born with a capacity for the Dark.

People were born with a preference towards one or the other. It was only a mere hundred years ago that a Neutral category had been formed. Neutrals could use both sides of the spectrum but were never able to cast some of the more powerful spells. The more Light inclined were obviously more powerful in Light magic and the Dark with Dark magic.

And therin lie Al's greatest regret. Dark Magic sounded fascinating and so much more satisfying. Who wouldn't want to come so closely in touch with the magic surrounding them? It was natural magic. What was there to be afraid of? But Al knew now that he could never truly understand aside from reading Restricted books like these. He was a Potter and Potters were about as Light as one could ever get. Al couldn't help but feel a little bitter at the thought. His entire life, the last name Potter had given him nothing but trouble. Now that he had finally found something that he could possibly understand totally, his last name had come to block his way again. It was the first time in Al's life he regretted being born with the last name Potter.

Al shut _The True Nature of the Dark_ a little harsher than he had meant to. Why was he constantly hindered? Why couldn't he ever show his true potential? Being a Light wizard would forever render him average. He knew. Just being around Dark aura made him feel more alive than anything he had ever felt before. Light Magic, as amazing as it was, could never compare.

~0~

"What are you doing, Albus?"

Al glanced up at his brother and didn't bother to hide his scowl. "I'm reading."

"I can see that! I meant why aren't you participating in the prank?" Over the years, the Gryffindors had suddenly created the tradition of a yearly prank. All of the teachers, even Professor Longbottom, tried to stop it but so many students participating meant they failed more often than they succeeded.

Al hated the yearly prank. He thought it was just a fantastic waste of time going about and trying to prove how large the Gryffindor ego was. Of course, he had always participated before to fit with his façade but he had found himself becoming less and less inclined to maintain that mask lately.

"I have a lot of homework."

"You have higher grades than Aunt Hermione ever got," James retorted. "Missing one homework assignment couldn't hurt."

"James, I'm not going to do it this year."

James colored. "But you're in Gryffindor! You have to!"

Al raised his eyebrows. "I have to? Really? And what gave you the power to make it necessary for me to participate?"

"You normally love the yearly prank."

"Well maybe I decided to spend my time doing more productive things," Al snapped.

James roughly grabbed Al's shoulder and spun him around before he could turn back to his quill and parchment. "What's wrong with you?"

Al felt a flash of intense hatred. There was nothing wrong with him. This was who he was and apparently his own brother didn't like it. "Let me go," Al hissed coldly. He jerked himself out of his brother's grip and snatched up his belongings. "Apparently you're too wrapped up with _yourself_ to even listen to what I'm saying."

Al stormed out of the Common Room and hurtled blindly down the halls. What was wrong with him, indeed. He never lost his temper like that. He was always in control, always the perfect little Gryffindor. But that one night in the Restricted Section had changed that. Al hadn't gone back since then but the profound truth of the two different magics had somehow made it impossible to remain how he had been before. Every class he entered now he couldn't help but imagine what it could _really_ be like if some Dark magic was taught as well. Every time he conquered yet another spell in a matter of minutes it just made him irate. He could have been learning something much more meaningful but it could never be. Not as long as his name was Albus Potter.

That one single fact that he could never truly understand Dark Magic just made Al see red. It was just so unfair. How could fate be so cruel as to put him in a family completely ruled by Light Wizards? Al now knew for a fact that he could never fit in now. He would never find his niche. That sent him into a fury and his brother's anger at Al's true personality had just thrown him off. Not even his family could ever understand.

Before Al knew it, his feet had taken him down into the dungeons and right up to the quarters of Professor Snape. He must be insane. What could possibly drive him to return to the old bat now that he was no longer injured? The professor would probably sneer at him and toss him back out. The Head of Slytherin had no time to be wasted on a mere Gryffindor, especially a Potter. But Al's limbs were betraying him at the moment and his hand knocked on the door without his consent.

"Come in."

Al hesitated but resolutely entered.

Professor Snape didn't even look up when he said, "What brings you back to my quarters, Potter?"

"I…" Al wasn't even sure why he was here. The only thing he could say was, "I wanted a place to study." Smooth, Potter. Like the notorious Potions Master of Hogwarts would let any student study in his quarters.

The professor flicked his eyes up for a brief second before his quill resumed its insistent scraching on the essays he had been correcting. "You're only allowed to stay in this room. Make one sound and I'll have you out of here before you could blink."

Al just stared at the man in shock for a little while. Did the professor just give him permission to stay? He wasn't going to question it, that was for sure. He quickly settled himself into a large, plush chair and pulled out his many books. When he had told James he was doing homework, he had been lying, of course. He had finished his homework hours ago. He had been busy taking notes on the Defense Against the Dark Arts books he had borrowed from the library. If he couldn't study Dark Magic, then he could get damn close enough with defense against it.

They sat in silence, each absorbed in their own respective tasks for a good three hours. Then a great vibration shook the walls and Al knew that Gryffindor had begun its prank of the year.

Professor Snape's head snapped up and a dark scowl marred his face. He suddenly whirled on Al and snarled, "If you are a part of this, so help me-"

"I assure you that I find this as irritating as you do, sir," Al spat acidly. "You'd think a house of dunderheads would spend more time studying than playing pathetic pranks."

Severs was taken aback by the boy's automatic reply and startled by how much hatred laced his words. And that was all before he registered the fact that the Potter had just degraded his own House.

"Ah…" Severus said rather numbly. It wasn't his most brilliant moment but the shock of seeing a Potter like this rendered him close to mute.

"If you're wondering what they're doing, they redecorating the entire Grand Hall to be a complete Gryffindor rendition to last for about a week. There should be a few live lions my brother or sister would have conjured by now." It was almost like the boy had just offered the information out of remorse for snapping at Severus earlier. Normally, the Potions Master would have been out of his office ready to give Gryffindors detention but he quickly found himself far more occupied with the anomaly in front of him.

If the boy's asking about Dark Magic didn't send Severus a sign that the boy was different, then this certainly did. What sort of Gryffindor would go and betray its own kind? Now that Severus had spent more than a few hours with the child, he found it hard to believe that nobody had ever noticed how much the boy pratically screamed "Slytherin!".

Severus found himself abruptly asking, "So did you…utilize your Cloak?"

The boy automatically tensed and then relaxed. "I did."

Somehow the older wizard knew that would be the answer. "What did you find?"

"I found that you were correct," Albus said bitterly. "Few can truly take on the Dark Arts."

Severus knew that the boy was referring to the fact that no Light Wizard could ever truly understand the Dark Arts and he nodded. "I hope it helped you on your path."

The only warning Severus got was the intense, borderline maniac, flash of uncontrolled hate and anger in those emerald eyes before Albus exclaimed, "Helped me? Oh, yes, it helped me. If you count going insane helpful, than it is certainly helping me!" The boy wildly flailed the Defense Against the Dark Arts book he had been reading. "See this? This will be the closest I will ever get to the Dark Arts!" He laughed humorlessly. "Yet I'm plagued by it! Every single waking moment I can't stop thinking about it! Why am I cursed to live such a fate? Why am I so _drawn_ to it? I'm supposed to be a bloodly Gryffindor! What lovely little Light child of the damn Potter line would even _consider_ reading about the Dark Arts? There's obviously something wrong with the world or there's something wrong with _me_!" He hurled the book across the room and hissed in fury. "See this? See how much I lose control? I _never_ lose control! That damn Dark Magic just _gets _to me!"

"Potter!" Severus shouted in an effort to override the hysterical child. "What on earth are you rambling about?" The boy was almost confessing that he _wanted_ to know more about Dark Magic. He had thought for sure that a trip to the Restricted Section would send the boy back on his destined Light path. He didn't expect to have the child come back confessing how much he _enjoyed_ the Dark.

"Oh, you should know," Albus snarled. "Weren't you the lovely spy during the war? Weren't you the Light's link to the Dark? Didn't you have to put on a façade every single god-forsaken day?" He let out a frustrated growl. "That's has been my _life_. Nobody has _ever_ seen this. _Nobody_. They would think I was _possessed_ if they saw me now." Albus's voice took on a mocking tone. "I'm supposed to be one of the wonderful Light Potter children aren't I? I'm supposed to be the ridiculous idiot that goes to risk his life for people he doesn't know. I'm supposed to be a Quidditch fanatic. I'm supposed to be honorable, proud, and brave. I'm supposed to be devoted to the 'follow your heart' crap." He sneered. "As if I'm stupid enough to buy into any of those things. I am not and have never been that person."

Severus was at an absolute loss of words. Did a Potter child just tell him, of all people, that he was _Dark_? "But Potter, you know it's impossible-"

"I know," the boy interrupted. "And that's why I'm on the _edge_, professor." He suddenly fell back limply in his seat as if his strings had been cut. "I don't know what to do. I-" His voice broke. "I don't know who I am anymore."

There was complete silence. What could Severus say to that? Oh, he understood all too well what the boy was going had questioned himself so many times as a young man. But he had a choice. He hadn't been born into a family with strong affilations with either side. This Potter had no choice. He was a Dark Wizard stuck in a Light Wizard's body. Severus wasn't surprised that the boy was beginning to lose it.

Al tried not to go into full panic attack. He sat quietly in the chair but his mind was reeling. He must be going insane. How could he have just confessed his deepest, darkest desires and secrets to a man he had hardly known until a few days ago? This was ridiculous. Al had no doubt that the professor was probably considering sending him to St. Mungo's.

So he was surprised when thin, spidery fingers handed him a warm cup of tea. Al looked up at his professor in utter bewilderment.

"Are you going to take it or are you going to stare at me like an complete idiot?" the professor sneered.

Al grasped the cup with shaking fingers and nervously blew at it. When Professor Snape didn't say anything, he tentatively took a sip of the beverage. It was sweet with a hint of bitterness.

"I'm astonished…that I've finally found a Potter I can tolerate," the elder wizard finally said.

The world had to be turning upside down. There was no way _the _Professor Snape had just said that. "Sir?"

"Don't be daft, Potter. You heard me."

Al didn't know what to make of it. Was the professor actually trying to reassure him? He had become accustomed to the professor's uncharacteristic kindess, but that had always come in an indirect way. He would always deliver his strange bouts of compassion with a layered insult or a vicious sneer. Al could always see past them but it had always been easier to accept those moments with reactions he expected. Now Al just didn't know what to make of it now that it was so bluntly put.

It warmed him in a way nothing had ever before.

Al glanced up as the professor opened the door. "Sir, where are you going?"

A small smirk worked its way on to Severus's face. "I think it's time to punish some troublemakers."

* * *

><p><strong>Hmmm...so did I rush things? I really didn't know how to get Al injured enough to warrant Snape's attention so I sort of went with that...I HAVE always wondered why they had dangerously moving stairs at Hogwarts in the first place. But I honestly didn't like how I beat Al up like that but I couldn't just say he tripped for no reason. He's too careful for that. And why didn't he just stand up to Parkinson with his wonderfully genius magic you ask? Well that's because he honestly hadn't expected a physical attack and was therefore too drawn into the situation to think clearly. Remember, he has an innate need to prove himself to his dead father.<strong>

**Sorry for killing Harry by the way - and no, he didn't die THAT pathetically. There's a reason why it happened the way it happened :)**

**And I kept Snape alive...couldn't have him dead if I wanted him to be part of the story, right? I always found his character both fascinating and sad at the same time. Perhaps if he never overcame his prejudices with Harry, then he could make it up with the next generation.**

**And yes, to all those Ginny lovers out there, I'm sorry to say that I will probably bash her a little. I never did like the pairing of Harry and Ginny.**

**No, I'm not making James and Lily (the next generation, not the Marauders) completely oblivious to Al's situation but I'll keep them in the dark for a long time.**

**Oh...and I'm terrible with inspiration. I honestly want to update as much as I possibly can ****but I'm a slow writer. Be patient with me! :)**


	4. Confession

**I do not own Harry Potter.**

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><p>Severus had two problems. One was easiliy taken care of. In fact, he was currently finding fierce pleasure in banishing the live lions those insufferable Gryffindors had summoned. The entire Great Hall had been turned into a red and gold massacre. It burned Severus's eyes just to look at it. It didn't help that somebody had enchanted the banners overhead to continuously shout, "Gryffindor Rules!" When Severus had finally arrived, there hadn't been a Gryffindor in sight and most of the other professors had been trying to clean up the mess. It was more tedious this year. One of the students had apparently found a spell to resist any attempt at removing the "decorations".<p>

But it would all be easily cleaned up in time. No, this wasn't Severus's main concern at all. His mind was currently occupied with the dilemma named Albus Potter.

Severus had dealt with a lot of situations in his liftime. The majority of them weren't exactly what one would call pleasant. But out of them all, this was probably one of the most difficult to deal with. What was he to do with an emotionally and mentally distraught child? He wasn't cut out for these kinds of things. He couldn't offer comfort of all things or even anything remotely related to goodwill. He had done everything he had done for the Potter child out of necessity. He couldn't have left the boy to die. He couldn't have left the boy alone to do who knows what when he had been recovering. He couldn't have denied the boy when he had come knocking at the door, not with the tortured expression those emerald eyes had betrayed.

But now things were different. He had a choice and Severus knew that whatever choice he made now would probably decide where the boy went from now on. The Potions Master held no delusions. He wasn't one blow up a situation. But he couldn't deny the truth. Whether Albus had known it or not, he had placed his future in Severus's hands.

Severus could turn the boy away from the Dark. It was probably the route many would choose if put in this position. A Potter could never practice Dark magic. The boy might have said he recognized such a fact but Severus had seen the look in the boy's eyes. He wouldn't let it go. If Severus allowed this to continue much longer, "wouldn't let go" would become "_couldn't_ let go".

But something about that morbid fascination with the Dark Arts caused Severus to hesitate in his decision. The boy truly wanted to learn. There was a _hunger_ that Severus had only seen a few times in his lifetime. Many who turned to the Dark were either born into it and therefore correctly trained and raised for its usage or corrupt beings with the delusion that the Dark Arts would bring them satisfaction. Voldermort had been one of the few who had loved the Dark. That was why Severus had initially agreed to join him. But as time progressed, the man fell and the pure joy of using Dark magic for Dark magic's sake quickly disappeared. Albus might be innocently excited about Dark magic now, but who was to say he wouldn't turn out like the last Dark Lord if he ever found a way around his Light body?

But the boy was also a Potter. If worst ever came to worst those Gryffindor genes surely had to count for something. They might actually turn out to be the balancing factor so many Dark Wizards lacked.

Could Severus bank everything on faith alone? There were the obvious facts: Albus was a Potter, he had grown up in a Light environment, and was about as Dark as they came. Dark magic was wonderful but dangerous and lured in many like the siren's song. The song itself was beautiful but whoever listened and followed often found themselves in poor luck. But the boy was Harry Potter's son and it, as much as Severus hated to admit it, probably meant the child had a good heart. Nobody could be Chosen One's flesh and blood without that.

Severus had never been one to take chances but not taking chances was exactly what had ruined his life. He had never taken the chance to truly speak to Lily before James Potter had swooped in a taken her. He had never taken the chance of lying to the Dark Lord before Harry was made famous. Perhaps now was the time to finally take a chance and let logic be damned. The boy had a Light Wizard's body. The worst result would be the Darkest Light Potter to have ever lived.

Right?

~0~

Al managed to keep his head buried in the Defense book for a good five minutes before his Gryffindor genes kicked in. He couldn't help it. The professor had left him alone in a room practically dripping Dark Magic. He was surprised nobody had ever reported it but, then again, who would ever dream of visiting the snarky Potions Master?

The fourth-year Gryffindor slipped off the chair he had been snuggled in for the past few hours and curiously eyed the professor's desk before deciding that it wouldn't be wise to look there. The man had been a spy for decades. Al had no doubt the professor would notice something had been misplaced or even touched. He turned his attention elsewhere and automatically found himself staring at the large array of books neatly lining a multitude of bookshelves.

Al glanced one last time at the door before making his way over to the treasure trove of knowledge. He only hesitated a second before promptly pulling out random books to examine them. Al was slightly disappointed to find that the majority of them were legal and definitely Light approved. All of them spoke of potions and Dark Magic but all were appropriate. He frowned to himself as he placed yet another potions book back in its place before getting a nearby chair to stand on. The upper shelves were inconveniently higher and Al had a sneaking suspicion the professor had made it that way.

Al victoriously grinned as he saw the sight before him. All of the books were undeniably Dark and illegal. Perfect. He eagerly snatched the nearest one off the shelf and traced a finger over the gold-embossed title. Al flipped open the cover and found himself engrossed yet again with the beauty of Dark Magic. Halfway through the first chapter, he came across a similar reminder that few could practice Dark Magic correctly. Al's giddy euphoria immediately vanished and a small frown marred his features. Of course. Why was he even bothering to read this? He could never do any of it. The young wizard closed the book to place it back just as the professor came striding through the door.

It was one of those frozen moments when a sense of impending doom descended upon one's soul. Al would have liked nothing more than to disappear. He knew how this must look to the Potions Master. He had trusted a student enough to quietly sit alone in his private quarters only to find said student sneaking through his belongings. Add the fact that Al was a Potter and that just compounded the effect to the tenth degree.

Before the man could so much as open his mouth, Al hastily blurted, "I'm so sorry, sir. I didn't mean to – well, actually, I did – but I just couldn't help it…and it's just that – I know this is totally out of line and I'll accept any punishment – or, oh, perhaps I should leave –"

"Potter," the professor sighed. "You're rambling."

"I – oh…" Al floundered. The man didn't seem angry at all. But that couldn't be true. He was Professor _Snape_. Nobody got away with so much as a sneeze before they were sentenced to a night manually cleaning the cauldrons. Yet the man was now standing before a Potter who had been going through his belongings while his back was turned with only a tired expression on his face.

"Relax," the professor said. "I'm not going to hex you."

To say Al was surprised went beyond understatement. "Sir?"

"If you keep this up, I'll be forced to retract my earlier sentiments of my tolerance level with you, Potter." The Potions Master slowly settled back in front of his desk. "Now sit. You look like you've seen a Basilisk."

Al numbly stumbled over to the chair he had been sitting in before. Only when he was sitting did he notice he had taken the Dark book with him. The younger wizard flushed in embarrassment.

"I see you still have not given up on your…curiosities."

"No, sir," Al whispered, mortified. He couldn't deny it now, not after he was holding the evidence for all to see in his hands. If he hadn't already confessed to the professor, Al would have been running as far away as he could have by now.

Professor Snape sighed again. "I have warded my entire upper bookshelves against any Light wizards, Potter. All they see are study books on potions and any attempt to pick one up causes them to have a memory relapse. So tell me, Potter, how did you get past my wards being a Light Wizard?"

Al could see what the man was implying but he couldn't believe it. He was about as Light as Light could be. "I don't know, sir."

"You just confessed to it not long ago."

"I confessed nothing," Al murmured fiercely. "I only said I was interested."

"Do not lie to me, Potter," the professor snarled. "You and I both know the truth here. There's no point in avoiding it."

Al struggled to keep his composure. He couldn't believe this. One day in the man's quarters and he was close to having the another breakdown. He had never had one before today. "Sir, I don't know what you are talking about."

"I will not tolerate people who close their eyes in the face of truth," the Potions Master whispered dangerously. "I want to hear you admit it, Potter. I want to hear _you_ say it. I could easily say it for you but what good will that do?"

Al could clearly see that the man was only saying what was right. He could see the clear-cut reasoning behind it. But this was just too painful now that he was faced with the truth. Sure, he had known about it all his life but he had never openly _declared_ it. It had been an idea, an inkling in the back of his mind for as long as he could remember. But it couldn't stay that way and Al should have known it. The professor had been telling the truth when he said Al had almost confessed as much earlier. He had come very close but he had deliberately avoided the one phrase that would mean the point of no return. Al could stay this way in denial for the rest of his life. He could forever rememeber Dark Magic as something he had briefly delved into. Or he could take the other path.

It would be so much easier to take the first route. If he went that way, he wouldn't have to deal with the disappointment or the hatred of those around him. He could remain loved and remembered as the great Harry Potter's Light son. But easier did not mean better. Al knew that if he ever took that road, he would never reach true satisfaction. He would die unhappy.

Al had known all along which choice he would make. Now all he had to do was make it.

"I got past your wards because I'm a Dark Wizard, professor."

~0~

Severus couldn't stop the heavy shiver that went down his spine at the boy's declaration. He had seen the inner struggle the boy had gone through before saying it. He had seen the boy make a decision and he knew he had been the one who had pushed the child to make it. He had seen no other choice. Those books had been so heavily warded Severus doubted even Dumbledore could have gotten his way through them. When he had caught the boy holding one of his Dark books without a single scratch, he had known then and there that now was the time to force the boy into a choice. The child was keeping himself at arm's length from the truth and only Severus could push the boy enough.

When Albus had said those few words, Severus knew that this was it. He had made his contribution to whatever destiny lie ahead for the young Gryffindor and now he had to face the consequences – good or bad.

"Yes," Severus murmured. "Only a Dark Wizard could have bypassed them."

Albus looked relieved yet completely burdened at the same time. Severus could see the strain such a choice had taken on the boy. He had noticed before, but only now did he truly recognize how tired the child looked. His emerald eyes that had been blazing only moments before from the decision were now only a dull forest-green. His small shoulders sagged and the Gryffindor robes seemed to hang off his frame. His skin stood out as white as a corpse's and large black rings hung beneath his eyes. The last few weeks had clearly taken their toll.

"I have a spare room," Severus finally said. "I won't have you collapsing on your way up to the Gryffindor Tower. It would mean more for me to clean up later."

The Potion Master's heart contracted painfully for moment as the younger wizard smiled at him. It was the first genuine smile Severus had ever seen directed towards him since Lily.

"Thank you, professor," Albus murmured before picking up his belongings and disappearing into the small guest room.

Severus didn't miss the fact that the boy had taken the Dark book with him.

* * *

><p><strong>This is a pretty important step...it's like drugs for Al. You have to admit you've got a problem before you can fix it. I hope it didn't happen too quickly. I'll try to develop Al's indecision over the Dark more in the next few chapters. I think he still needs to brood over it. After all, he did grow up with an entire family of Light Wizards. He has to struggle a lot more in my opinion to truly believe he's Dark. Good thing Snape is there to help him :)<strong>

**Ah...Snape. I think he has to go through some indecision too. Sure, he sounds confident about his choice now but I think I'll put him through some tough moments too. I can't make it as simple as "oh, I think I'll take on a new Dark Wizard." It's got to be way harder than that ;P**

**Once again, I'm a slow writer to bear with me! :D**


	5. Perspectives

**Hmm...what do you know, I did get to this before the week was over! **

**I do not own Harry Potter.**

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><p>It was never a surprise to find more than one empty bed in the Gryffindor Tower at night. More than anything, it would have been a concern to find all of Hogwart's lions obediantely sleeping in their dormitories. It wasn't within their rash nature to resist the lure of exploring a gigantic, ancient castle – even at the risk of finding themselves in detention.<p>

Al normally abhorred people who practiced such suicidal missions. Professor Snape was usually the one administering the halls at night and who would be stupid enough to take the risk of running into him? If he ever heard any of his dorm mates shuffle out of their beds, he would just scowl and bury his head under the covers. But lately he had found more and more reason to practice the very acts he once despised. After all, how could he read a Dark book in broad daylight?

The young Gryffindor let out a sigh of pleasure and small accomplishment as he closed the cover of the Dark book he had borrowed from Snape. The sounds of his roommates' snores seemed oddly soothing that night despite how much they often annoyed him. Al reverently placed the Dark book into his trunk and locked it before snuffing out the light he had conjured.

The book had taken him a week to finish. He normally never took over a few days to complete one whether it be one or eight hundred pages. But the restraints of having to hide whatever he was reading had interfered. Al had tried to resist staying up beyond the curfew for the first night but promptly gave in the second. He could easily place a Silencing Spell around his bed and close the drapes to mask any light he brought forth.

As much as Al hated to admit it, those Gryffindors had gotten something right for a change. There was something about doing things at night that made everything seem more profound and mysterious. Every sentence, every word he had devoured from the Dark book had been made all the more spellbinding in the darkness. It seemed fitting to read a Dark book when it was dark.

Al knew that nothing would ever come from reading everything he did. He knew he would never be able to perform all of the magic and rituals he had discovered. He knew he would never be able to anything even remotely related to it. But he just couldn't stop. So Al just had shoved that bit of information to the back of his mind and continued to read. The uncomfortable truth loomed over his head once again with the conclusion of the book but the young wizard shook it off. He wasn't ready to deal with it just yet. It couldn't hurt to be happy for a little bit.

But then another dilemma came to the forefront of Al's mind. He was done with this book now and he wanted another. But that meant another visit to the Potions Master. As kind as the man had been a week ago, Al was willing to bet he wouldn't catch the professor in such a good mood again. He could either take the risk of asking the professor for another book or just keep out of the man's way for a good while. Al struggled for a moment before deciding that it would be best to let things lie for a little longer. He couldn't impose upon Slytherin's Head of House so often.

Al nodded to himself and settled his head upon the plush pillow beneath him. He was pleasantly warm and, for the first time in years, comfortable. Al would have liked nothing more than to spend the rest of his few hours of rest doing just that – resting. Yet the thrill of having finished a book and a Dark book, no less, made him antsy. He always felt like this after completing a reading. He should have known he wouldn't have been able to sleep for the rest of the night but the last few pages were just so tantalizing he couldn't stop. Al scowled to himself. Having no control over himself was becoming more and more common nowadays. It wouldn't do to continue to trend.

So he sat it out. He shifted into a hundred different poses and a hundred different positions on the bed. He tried counting sheep and thinking about anything but the Dark information he had just read. He lay so that his feet were on the pillow and his head was at the edge. He lay on his belly and even tried the fetal position. He counted how many times Duncan Thomas whistled through his nose when he snored (every third if anybody was curious) and tried to find patterns in the drapes. When Al found himself trying to send telepathic thoughts to Jason Abbott, he came to the conclusion that any more time trying to avoid his compulsion to get up and move would result in furthur personal humiliation.

Al grumbled silently to himself as he dragged himself out of the warmth of his sheets. He slid his feet into his slippers and pulled on the maroon robe perched on the post of his bed. Al hugged himself for heat and meandered down into the Common Room.

He knew it had been a bad idea. His cousin, Rose, was curled up in front of the fireplace and very much awake. Al recognized her presence too late to make any sort of dignified shuffle back into his bed. She had seen him out of the corner of her eyes and had turned to give him a small smile.

"Couldn't sleep?" she asked.

Al shrugged. "It's normally not a problem for me."

Rose sighed and hugged her knees to her chest. "I normally don't wake up either. Maybe it's the weather."

Al didn't think anything was wrong with the weather. It might have been a little gloomier lately because of the oncoming winter but unless you had deadly allergies or an aversion to Quidditch, there was nothing to hate about cooler days or colorful leaves. "Maybe."

Some would have called Rose pretty. She reflected her mother's features and seemed a little gangly but her potential beauty couldn't be missed. Her wavy hair was a light ginger and her small, prim face rendered a slim and gentle look about her. Her heart-shaped mouth was often pursed in thought and her brown eyes gave her a fawn-like appearance.

Al had never thought of her as pretty. She was his cousin and that was all he could ever think of her. It wasn't that he found her ugly. He just thought of her as a cousin, a relative. Relatives were never ugly or particularly stunning. They just _were_.

Still, Al found Rose the most interesting of his many relatives. She was very intelligent and surprisingly perceptive. Al might have thought his sister the brightest witch of Ravenclaw, but Rose was the brightest witch of Hogwarts. The only reason why only a few knew such a fact was because she was so quiet about it. Even Al wouldn't have noticed if he hadn't accidentally seen her grades at the end of the semester during his First Year. If he could take a guess, al would have thought she was meant for Ravenclaw. But as bright as she was, Al still found her one of the easiest to read and therefore found it easiest to keep his mask on in her presence.

"Have you been doing well?"

Al looked at Rose with thinly veiled surprise. "Yes. I'm perfectly fine. Why?"

Now it was Rose's turn to shrug. "I just thought you seemed a little odd lately." Her eyes widened. "Not that I meant it in a bad way or anything, Al. It's just that you've been looking a bit down for the past few days."

The Gryffindors looked at each other for a moment before Rose uncomfortably broke eye contact and turned back to the fire. Al let out a small breath and settled beside his cousin.

"Look…I really appreciate your asking. It means a lot."

"So what's been bothering you?"

Al tugged on the sleeve of his robe and plastered on a forlorn expression. "I tried out for the Quidditch team again this year and…"

"Oh!" Rose exclaimed. "I'm so sorry. I heard but I just didn't think - "

"No, it's fine," Al stuttered, completely in character. "It's just that…I was really hoping to keep up with the expectation, you know? Even my sister has made it on…"

Rose bit her lips. "I know what you mean."

"You do?" Al frowned. Then his expression cleared and he undertook a tone of epiphany. "Oh…your mother?"

"It just gets to be so much!" his cousin exclaimed. She had clearly been holding this in for a while. "She was so – so brilliant! And Da thinks I'm destined to follow in her footsteps. But what if I don't want to? What if I don't want to complete one homework assignment just for the fun of it? What if I want to break a rule now and again? It's not like they ever say anything about getting perfect scores to Hugo."

Al had seen this coming. It had been painfully obvious for anybody who had eyes. He had seen her casting furtive looks of envy at the Gryffindors who participated in the school-wide pranks. He had seen her shove her books away from herself in frustration many times. But he had always seen her look away from those pranksters or pick the books right back up. There was a sort of grim determination to her that earned a little bit of Al's respect. It wasn't much because her motivation was weak but it was detemination all the same and such devotion deserved its own acknowledgement to a certain extent.

"I think you're brilliant," Al beamed sweetly at her. "I don't think you're doing all of this for your parents. I think you're doing all of this for _yourself_. You should be proud of what you do and what you have accomplished."

Rose tearily smiled at him before giving him a small kiss on his cheek like she had been doing since the very first day they had met. "Thank you, Al. You always know what to say and you're always so sweet. I couldn't imagine what it would be like without you. You're a true Gryffindor."

Was that supposed to be a compliment? Al struggled not to wince and couldn't help but avert his eyes. He was no Gryffindor. He had admitted to as much a mere week ago.

A small hint of remorse overcame him at deceiving his cousin and he whispered, "Maybe I'm not."

Rose gave him an odd look before laughing quietly. "If you're not Gryffindor, than I don't know who is."

~0~

James Sirius Potter always thought his younger brother to be a bit of a mystery. At first glance, there didn't seem to be anything out of place. He was small, but headstrong and determined. There was an innocence about him that made James feel slightly more protective than he thought he ought to feel. James had never seen Al hurt anything larger than a fly and knew for a fact that the day his younger brother got anything less than an "O" on any of his assignment was the day apocalypse was destined to arrive. He was kind and gentle in everything he did and was probably more delicate than Lily.

But something about him had a certain illusion to it. James had known Al his whole life yet he felt like he didn't actually _know_ his brother. There were the briefest of moments when something considerably darker overcame the sparkle in Al's eyes and it made James shiver. He had dismissed all of those occasions on the trick of the light or on his mind. His little brother couldn't be anything but the innocent soul he had always known.

Or so he had thought before the last week. James knew he was a little bit of a prat at times but the rush of adrenaline he always found in pranking just got to his head. He knew that and figured that he ought to spend more time studying than flying as well. But the day he took his studies more seriously than his Quidditch was also the day Al would fail his first exam. In other words, never. So he expected hostility from a lot of people and actually welcomed it on some occasions to keep his ego in line.

The only person who had never given James a hard time about his attitude was Al. His younge brother had always given the impression that he found the pranks hilarious and the risks awe-inspiring. Yet Al had not only rebuffed any offer of attending the yearly Gryffindor prank but he had also burst into an angry fit – all in less than a month.

James blamed it on the fall Al had suffered a few weeks ago. That was when his younger brother had begun to change. James knew there was something different about him. There was no way the irritable and snappy kid who had emerged after the accident was his brother. Something had made him change during that fall and Gryffindor's champion prankster was determined to find out exactly what was wrong and fix it for good. If he didn't, who would?

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><p><strong>I know this was probably pretty slow but I had to get some of the other characters and perspectives into the picture. I'd spent the first four chapters mostly on Al and Snape so I had to get you guys to know at least some of the other points of view. Hopefully it'll shed some light on how much Al had ingrained his facade into the minds of those "close" to him. <strong>


	6. Discovery

**I do not own Harry Potter.**

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><p>Over the past week, there were many moments when Severus was absolutely sure that Albus was meant to be a Dark Wizard. Now that he knew the boy's true nature, he often found himself catching the small things that marked him as such. The way the boy would hesitate before making any decision, always thinking it through. Everything he did was in moderation yet there was a certain brilliant equation to it all. One word whispered into a partner's ear meant a chain reaction to benefit him later. One smile to a rival in the class meant an accident after the distraction to give Albus the edge. One choice to help a student related to the owner of Honeydukes meant a free bag of sweets on the next trip. They were all miniscule things but, if one were to look at the summation, all of those small actions made Albus's life a great deal easier. He almost never had to retrieve his own materials and Severus was pretty sure that if the boy had to ask for a favor, almost everybody in the room would feel obligated to answer it. It was the very height of manipulaton.<p>

But there were other times Severus felt a glimmer of doubt. Potter's second child had all the makings of a Dark Wizard but that could not erase the fact that the boy had spent his entire life surrounded by Light influence and had some Gryffindor traits infused into his very DNA. Severus sometimes saw how the boy would discreetly nudge a classmate's hand to save it from a splash of dangerous potion. He saw how the boy would spot somebody trip in the halls and quickly move over to assist the person no matter the House. One could almost attest these acts to chivalry and politeness that many Slytherins had practiced to perfection. But Severus knew better. He had been a spy long enough to know the learned from the natural. There was no denying Albus was a natural Dark Wizard but there was also no denying that the boy naturally had a good heart. It made Severus's head ache just to think about it.

Severus was suddenly ripped from his musings as a large explosion came predictably from the left hand corner of the dungeons. The Potions Master scowled darkly and tried to keep from snarling. As much as a near decade of safety had lessened his foreboding nature (only a minute change, mind you), he still found incompetence unduly irritating. The fact that the mistakes came from a consistent source did not do much to soothe his irritation much either.

"Ms. Longbottom…just as inept as your father."

Grace Longbottom was anything but graceful. While her elder sister and younger brother had escaped the intial clumsiness their father had displayed during his earlier years, Grace had not been so lucky. Everybody knew that she had once been classified as a squib before an owl had dropped off a Hogwarts letter that said otherwise. Some still wondered whether that same owl had been sorely confused or confounded at the time of its delivery.

The girl's rounded cheeks flushed a dark red and she tried to discreetly wring her hands. Even with her Gryffindor bravery, she still had an innate fear of the Potions Master – yet another aspect she had inherited from her father.

Severus couldn't help but sneer at her blatent signs of nervousness. "When I speak, I expect you to look at me."

A group of Slytherins snickered while Grace flinched a little before reluctantly turning her gaze upward. The professor's cold eyes sent her quailing on the inside. "I-I'm sorry…"

"It seems like you have failed to read directions correctly _again_, Ms. Longbottom. Need I speak to your father for the upteenth time? I was hoping the daughter of a fellow instructor would take the time to improve herself rather than participating in certain…activities."

Every Gryffindor in the room flinched save for one green-eyed boy still busily brewing in the opposite corner. They knew what the professor had meant by "activities". The blaring posters they had placed in the Great Hall were still immovable and the Potions Master found it a great detriment to his dining experience.

"N-No," Grace whispered fearfully. "I'll try to do better, sir."

Severus impatiently waved his wand and promptly banished the remainder of the girl's cauldron. "For failing to comprehend the English written language yet again, Ms. Longbottom, I think I shall reward you with a 'T' for today's performance."

Grace seemed close to tears and several of the other Gryffindors around her were struggling to keep their anger in check. It was a rather harsh verdict but nobody was truly surprised. The second Longbottom often found her cauldron emptied before the class ended.

After placing samples of their potions in the front, the class quickly depleted itself of students. The Gryffindors found the place to be their very own personal hell and the Slytherins knew better than to dawdle in their Head of House's presence.

Severus sighed tiredly as the last vestiges of the students disappeared and turned to collect the samples. He was just about to pick up one of the vials when he sensed a presence behind him. Years of war made Severus instinctively whirl around almost instantly with his wand in hand.

"Professor?"

The Potions Master let out a discreet sigh of relief. It wasn't an enemy out to kill him from behind. Those years were over. Then Severus realized who exactly was standing in front of him and he had to keep from groaning aloud, almost wishing it had been an enemy. He had managed to avoid glancing at the boy today but fate just wouldn't let things go, would it?

Albus curiously looked at his professor for a few more minutes before he set his jaw and asked, "Is it alright if I speak with you?"

A sudden fierce sense of something _wrong_ hit Severus. He just knew what the boy would ask. He would ask more about the Dark and somehow, Severus knew he wouldn't be able to say no to such a request. Things were moving a little too quickly. At this rate, the boy wouldn't have time to actually think his way through his actions and neither would he. It would just be one mad rush of adrenaline. True, it had been a few weeks but the Potions Master knew more so than most how much the lure of the Dark could linger. If he didn't know better, he would have said some greater force out there had lent a hand in his reply. "I have to meet with the Headmaster, Potter. I suggest you come another time."

The young wizard looked baffled for a brief moment before he regained his composure and nodded stiffly. "Of course. I'm sorry to have taken your time."

~0~

Of course the professor had been busy. What had he been thinking? Al moodily shouldered his schoolbag. He couldn't expect the man to just drop everything at his request. He should have scheduled an appointment first or…or what? Something told Al that no matter what he could have done, the Potions Master would have smoothly found some reason not to be available.

Just because the man was the only person alive who knew of Al's true nature didn't mean he was obligated to do anything.

But it hurt. It hurt Al to a degree he hadn't felt since he had first learned he didn't have a father to look towards. What _had_ he been thinking? Had he really been trying to find somebody to actually look up to in the snarky git? Ridiculous. Al was smarter than that. He wouldn't have fallen to such a degree.

But that didn't change the fact that it hurt.

Over the past week, he had been desperately trying not to think of that wonderful treasure of Dark books the professor owned but today he had finally caved in. He had gone and prepared to speak to the man. Then he had been clearly dismissed. Yet he knew that his hunger for knowledge wasn't what hurt. If anything, that had abated to allow disappointment to rule supreme. He had wanted to somebody to trust.

There. He had said it.

Al scowled darkly and picked up his pace. Potions had been his last class of the day and he promptly decided that he wasn't in any mood to eat down in the Great Hall today. He would find a decent meal from the kitchens later. The elves were always more than eager to serve the son of the great Harry Potter.

He stormed past the Fat Lady's potrait after casting a dark glare at the overlooking stariway above the entrance and ignored the curious glances from other Gryffindors as he hurled himself into the dormitories. Al made a beeline for his four-poster bed and threw his bag down in frustration. Everything was unfair. He hated it. He hated it all. Why was everybody so happy when he was suffering every single day? Why did everybody else even deserve that happiness when he didn't?

Al was sounding like a whiny brat and he knew it. But sometimes he felt justified. If he couldn't have what he wanted, then he would whine and to hell with it.

"Al?"

Al stiffened. He knew that voice. How could he not when he had heard it every single day of his existence?

"What do you want, James?"

The older Gryffindor hesitated at the doorway before his eyes hardened with determination. "We haven't spoken since the prank."

Al waited and when James didn't say anything more, he raised an eyebrow and drew his mouth into a tight line.

James might have been a headstrong Gryffindor at heart but even he couldn't miss the meaning behind that simple movement. "And well…I suppose I just want to say I'm sorry for pushing you to do the prank."

Well, miracles never ceased. Al felt his surly mood lighten a little and he sighed before slipping back into his Gryffindor persona. "Thanks, James. I'm sorry for being so harsh about it. I suppose I was still angry about the Quidditch tryouts and Parkinson."

Al's siblings had been the only other students to hear the real reason behind their brother's disappearance during that weekend a few weeks ago. They had been furious and the Slytherin's found themselves in more than a few "accidents".

James's expression darkened and he scowled. "I won't let that idiot get to you again, Al. Not as long as you're my little brother."

Al forced a smile. "Thanks, James. But you don't need to worry about me like that."

"How do you think mum would take it if I left you to those vipers? Besides, I can't just watch you get hurt like that again, not if I can help it."

Perfect. Now Al had a babysitter in the form of the most Gryffindor Gryffindor you could possibly find. "I don't want to trouble you, James. I'll be fine."

James smiled fondly at his younger brother as Al had just said something silly and childish. "You don't need to be so brave all the time, Al. I can protect you." He ruffled Al's hair for good measure and strode out of the dormitories, clearly pleased with himself.

The second his brother disappeared out the door, Al's face crumpled into a ferocious scowl and he furiously slammed a hand against one of the bedposts. There it was again, a reminder of his own weakness. It didn't matter that he had the best marks. It didn't matter that he could outwit even the most cunning Slytherin. It didn't even matter that he could probably blast every Hogwarts student to their knees in a duel. It didn't matter because all he was and could ever be was just a side dish in the Potter Trio. Nobody wanted him. Nobody wanted the _real_ Al. Not even Professor Snape. Definitely not Professor Snape. The man had far better things to do than worry over a moody and confused teen.

Al glanced down at his trunk and quietly disarmed the locking and warding spells. Various schoolbooks and scrolls as well as a few articles of clothing he hadn't yet worn stood at the top. But Al's eyes skimmed over them and he gently, almost reverantly, pulled the forbidden tome of Dark knowledge. He ran thin, pale fingers over the cover and caressed the thinning pages. Al had found almost sinful pleasure in reading the book but, despite what he told himself, he knew that his conscience writhed at the secrets he hoarded. He had admitted to being a Dark Wizard. That much Al knew and he had no intention of taking it back. But that had only referred to his mind, his soul. That hadn't meant anything to his body. Could he really survive both the disappointment of never being able to practice what he learned and the guilt that constantly gnawed at at him? Al didn't know the answer to that. But there really was no turning back.

If he was destined to lost his mind along the way, so be it. Dark Magic was the only thing that truly knew _him_.

~0~

A lot of people said Scorpius looked like his father. It was no mystery as to why. He had the same pale skin, the same platinum blonde hair combed to perfection, the same aristocratic features, and the same arrogant air about him. He even took the same strides and his near-consistent smirk was a Malfoy trademark. The only difference was his eyes. They were a brooding grey in contrast to his father's fierce blue ones and more often than not, they caused Scorpius to seem more severe than he intended to.

But there were key differences that people also noticed. Scorpius was almost alone and quiet outside of the classroom. He had friends, but they weren't the type to stick it through thick and thin. Scorpius preferred to experiment with his Potions rather than converse with them. In terms of brewing, he was the top of his class, even scoring higher than Albus Potter. It was the source of Scorpius's pride and he saw it as the only thing that truly marked him apart from his family.

It hadn't been easy growing up in the Malfoy household, despite its many luxuries. Draco had been much more understanding and forgiving than previous generations but that didn't stop Scorpius's grandfather from picking up the slack. From the moment he could drool, Scorpius had been expected to be perfect. From clothing to manners, he could have easily done well in a royal court. But even harder so was the prejudice.

Scorpius's earliest memory wasn't pretty. He had been only three then and it was the first time his father had decided to bring him to Diagon Alley. Scorpius had been ecstatic. A mansion as a home offered a lot of exciting discoveries but the young Malfoy had always wanted to experience what it would be like to be in a crowd. They had stopped by Flourish and Blotts first and Scorpius had bolted for the children's area despite his father's protests. Once he had separated from his father, Scorpius had felt a certain giddy daring that came with independence. He boldy strode up to the shelves just as another group of older boys crossed his path.

One of the boys had taken one look at him and wrinkled his nose. "So it's Malfoy spawn."

Scorpius had flinched in shock at the statement and looked up at the other boy with wide eyes.

"Bet he's going to be another Death Eater," growled another. "He'll be like the rest of them."

Scorpius hadn't understood them. Wasn't the Malfoy line a great one? Hadn't he been continuously told that his family was the purest and the best around? Hadn't he always been taught that others looked up to a family such as his?

"You should scuttle back to your Dark Lord," a boy had sneered. "And try not to go around killing the muggleborns while you're at it."

The Malfoy heir had consistently heard his grandfather speak of the witches and wizards who had been born to Muggles but his father and mother had always reminded him that skill and power mattered much more than blood.

"I-I dun know…"

"Aww…the little _devil_ is scared." The boy had smirked and shoved Scorpius into the nearest bookcase. "You should be. You deserve to be miserable you disgusting piece of-"

The boy had abruptly broken off at something behind Scorpius and glowered darkly before quickly disappearing back into the crowd with his group.

Scorpius's father had assured his son that the boys were just being silly and it was nothing to worry about. But Scorpius hadn't been stupid. He had managed to pry the truth of his family loyalties from his mother just a few months later.

Now in his fourth year at Hogwarts, the young Malfoy still faced that same prejudice but he took it with a grain of salt. Scorpius understood that his family had made mistakes in the past, but he was determined to fix them. He was going to prove that Malfoys weren't a bunch of evil gits who controlled the political world through bribery. He would show them all that the Malfoys were talented and strong enough to walk arrogantly win their way up the ranks just like any other. By the time he was done with the world, they wouldn't even associate the name of Malfoy with the Death Eaters anymore.

But just because Scorpius was trying to change the way things were didn't mean that anybody else recognized it. He would still find himself at the receiving end of several of his teachers' irritation and any student wearing gold and maroon who passed Scorpius in the halls was bound to ridicule him. The Gryffindor hatred of Slytherins and Malfoys especially weren't hidden and James Potter, being the epitome of Gryffindor, was the one who had earned Scorpius's hatred the most. Lily Potter was a close second.

Albus Potter was another story. Scorpius didn't know what to make of him. Albus was brilliant and kind to everybody. _Everybody_. Scorpius included with the exception of a few moments. And even those few moments seemed…superficial, as if he didn't mean it. Scorpius had grown up learning how to read beyond the masks people adorned and he knew enough to recognize that Albus Potter had some sort of defense in place. But if Scorpius hadn't known better, he wouldn't have been able to tell even that. Sometimes he doubted his own judgement. The mask was so perfect he sometimes doubted it existed.

Scorpius watched as the person in question stormed out of the dungeons and curiously tried to read the situation. The young Malfoy had been making his way back to the Slytherin Common Rooms but the sight of Albus's storming out of the Potions room had been too good to give up. He quickly followed the Gryffindor down the hallways and up towards the Gryffindor Common Room. He was lucky that the halls were deserted due to the conflicting dinnertime but he had to scramble to keep up with Albus and Scorpius was worried that his target would notice the heavy footsteps behind him. When the normally observant Gryffindor hadn't shown any signs of suspicion, Scorpius knew that there was something truly wrong.

Scorpius noticed a junction in the hallway. Both sides would lead up to the Gryffindor Tower but one was far shorter than the other. Albus, being distracted, took the longer route and Socrpius took full advantage of it. He ran down the other hall and settled into an overlooking stairway just above the Fat Lady. Most Slytherins didn't know where the Gryffindor Common Rooms were but Scorpius had made it his first priority to discover its location in his First Year. After all, he could easily evade any oncoming pranks if he placed a small spell just above the entrance to dissipate any ideas of torturing Scorpius Malfoy.

He heard footsteps not more than a few minutes later and eagerly watched with attention. Some part of Scorpius was screaming this was nearly stalker status and that it would be far more dignified to stop now. But a far larger part was telling him that this might be the only clue he would get in unraveling the mystery known as Albus Potter.

There was nothing out of the ordinary with Albus's demeanor if you took into consideration that he was angry. Most students acted like that when they were. Scorpius continued to watch but nothing enlightening came forth. The Gryffindor's face was merely darkened by a scowl and the Malfoy heir was more than familiar with scowls. A flash of disappointment wrenched at Scorpius's chest. What had he been expecting? Honestly, this was what was supposed to happen. What had he been looking for in following Albus here? It wasn't like the second Potter would have gone off to do anything out of the ordinary.

Then it happened. Just as Albus was about to enter through the portrait, he abruptly paused and turned his eyes to glare at Scorpius's exact hiding place. Grey eyes met emerald and for the first time in all Scorpius's years of knowing his classmate, the word "dangerous" leapt to the forefront of his mind. If he were to ever guess what the color of the Killing Curse was, he would have said the color of Albus's eyes.

When the Gryffindor finally relinquished his gaze and disappeared into the Common Room, Scorpius finally remembered to breathe. He couldn't quite believe it. Scorpius knew those eyes. He lived with them; he had them. Albus's eyes had been filled with fury, anger, pain, and perception very few had. Those weren't the eyes of a kind and peaceful boy. Those weren't the eyes of a brave and loyal Gryffindor. Scorpius knew cunning and lies when he saw them and in Albus's moment of weakness, the young Malfoy had found a chance to see them. There was darkness in Albus Potter's soul and Scorpius had a sickening feeling that nobody knew it. His gut instinct had been right. This had been the clue he had been waiting for. But this wasn't what he had been expecting at all. He wanted to deny it. He wanted to turn away from it all. Who knew what all of this would lead to? But anybody who put self-preservation before all else knew the golden rule of facing reality.

There was only one reality here: those were the eyes of somebody who knew the Dark.

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><p><strong>Wow...so I'd already hit a small block with this chapter. It was difficult for me to determine how long I should make Al's indecision and I was contemplating which character to introduce. Let me know if it got confusing anywhere because I think when I'm not on a roll I tend to make things more choppy and strange. <strong>


	7. Plans and Avoidance

**I do not own Harry Potter.**

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><p>A lot of kids grow up hearing stories of magical fairies or magicians who would help the knight slay the dragon. They would squeal at the right places and dream of lands where magic was real. They would pretend to be the same characters they adored and entertain fantasies of growing up to be "just like that". But when they reached the adequate age, they quickly forgot that such a world ever existed in their minds and all that remained were fond memories. In a world where technology ruled and magic was a thing only in children's books, few ever thought that the very thing they believed to be myth truly thrived just beneath their very noses.<p>

But Jacob knew better. He didn't grow up innocently listening to stories of magic. Whenever the teacher began to even mention it, he would automatically close down and cease to listen. Whenever somebody told a tale or even spoke about magic in a book, he would turn away.

Because he knew the truth. The _real_ truth.

Magic was real.

Wizards and witches were real.

And he was determined to see every last one wiped off the face of the Earth.

~0~

It had been over a month since Al had tried to speak to Professor Snape. Now during Potions classes, he made a point of avoiding eye contact with the Potions Master. He would stiffly finish his perfect potion and leave as quickly as the Gryffindors. Whether his actions affected the professor any, Al didn't know. Not having contact with the man had that effect.

Al refused to acknowledge that this bothered him. He didn't believe that the man wanted nothing to do with him anymore, but Al realized that rejection could occur again if he kept up any relation with the professor. It would just be better to not have any sort of connection whatsoever. Al consistently told himself that he was doing this to keep from bothering the Potions Master. The man didn't have time outside of class. He was important, after all. He was a war hero, just as Al's father had been.

But somewhere beyond the veil of lies he told himself, Al knew that it did bother him. Every time he came across a passage in the Dark text he didn't quite understand, he couldn't help but think that maybe the professor could explain it to him. Every time he was forced to maintain his Gryffindor mask, he couldn't help but think of how he wouldn't have to keep up the act in front of the professor. Every time he even thought of potions, he couldn't help but think of the professor. The professor was the only person who knew who he was. And it hurt that the man didn't have any interest in him at all. Was that vague concern Al had seen during his recovery time just a farce? Was the genuine interest in his worries during the Gryffindor prank just an act?

Al stabbed at his meal and struggled to reign in the torment he had been dealing with for the past month. He took a few labored breaths before telling himself that everything was perfectly fine. He had lived for thirteen years without any help whatsoever. Why would he need it now? He was perfectly fine and any more thoughts on the Potions Master would be pointless.

"Hey, Al, what do you think of that?" Hugo asked.

Al glanced at his cousin and gave him a smile fit to be on the cover of _Witch's Weekly_. "I'm sorry, Hugo, what was that? I was a little distracted."

Al had erased any of the Gryffindors' impressions that something had been wrong with him. The past month had been something of a stormy whirlwind inside of him but nobody noticed. If anything, they saw that he was much better. He no longer glowered at people when they talked him and Al made sure that he was excessively kind to James. Any idea of his previous troubles had been banished; they had ceased to exist. The perfect little Gryffindor was back.

Rose's younger brother gave Al an toothy grin before explaining, "The _Daily Prophet_ has been talking about how your Da could have been one of the greatest Aurors in the Ministry. Do you think so? I think your Da could have been a great Auror!"

Al quickly developed a small twitching disorder in the corner of his mouth. He was struggling to keep from dropping his smile and falling into a ferocious snarl. Just how insensitive could somebody get? Al understood that Hugo was just trying to be kind, but his younger cousin should have known better than to bring up the topic. It was a well known fact that, out of all his siblings, Al was the most sensitive when it came to his father. What did Hugo hope to accomplish by asking Al this? Al didn't know whether his father could have been a good Auror or not. He couldn't remember the Wizarding World's hero, let alone know enough to determine such a thing.

"I'm not so sure, Hugo. Who don't you go ask James? He'll probably know better."

"Sure thing, cuz!" The little Weasley scurried away, eager to please.

Al sighed and turned back to his beaten food only to be disturbed less than a minute later.

"Potter."

Anybody in Hogwarts would have recognized that conceited tone. "Scorpius," Al smoothly replied. He was about to reply in some sarcastic wit but thought better of it. He was maintaining his Gryffindor image, after all. "What are you doing here?"

The Malfoy heir furrowed his brow in irritation at the question and snapped, "Professor Snape requests both of our presence after dinner. Meet in the Potions room." The blonde abruptly turned away after his message and strode back to his table.

"You're not going to go, right?" Lily asked from a little way down the table. She had quickly taken to varying between the Gryffindor and Ravenclaw tables in her first year at Hogwarts. She wanted to spend her time with both her Housemates and her family's House. "That was a trap if I ever saw one."

Al couldn't imagine himself in a worse situation. He needed to meet with the very man he had been avoiding for the last month. He had to meet said man with _Scorpius_ of all people. While the other boy had never done anything outright to him, the Slytherin had been known to pull some nasty tricks on his siblings. Everybody knew that the Malfoy disliked the Potter family. Al wanted nothing more than to say he wasn't going to go but he knew better. If he avoided the meeting now, he would be caught later and the repercussions would not be pleasant.

"I…think I should go."

His sister gave him an incredulous look. "Al, you know better than that. Those snarky Slytherins are probably planning some way to take a million points from Gryffindor and give you a year filled with detentions while they're at it."

For all of Lily's attributes that labeled her a Ravenclaw, she still had the Gryffindor mindset that the professor had called the meet just to take points. "It wouldn't do me any good to ignore direct summons like that."

"I think he's right," Rose commented to Al's left. "If he doesn't go now, wouldn't Professor Snape just find him later with a _real_ reason to give him detention?"

Al felt a small flare of appreciation. Rose might have been one of the easiest people to deceive, but she was a great asset when he needed support.

Al gave his cousin a sweet smile and said, "See? Even Rose thinks I should go." Nobody could really argue with that. Rose was known for her level head. Before anybody could pluck up their Gryffindor pride, Al made a quick escape and was headed down towards the dungeon before anybody could even think of retorting.

It was only fall but Al could already feel the oncoming chill. If Hogwarts was so magical, why couldn't it come with it's own heating system? He knew that Muggle homes had some sort of temperature moderator. Al believed that wizards were superior up to a point with their magic but he had to admit that those Muggles had some useful inventions.

But if the rest of the castle was beginning to catch the cold, the dungeons were already in the fierce grips of winter. Al shivered involuntarily as he made his way further and further below the campus grounds. The chill was certainly not helping his nerves. He dreaded facing the Potions Master and Slytherin's little prince together. Al was sly but he could only do so much in front of two Slytherins.

When Al was finally standing in front of the Potions room, he found that he was frozen to the spot. He just couldn't bring himself to enter. What was he so afraid of? No. He wasn't afraid. He was just…anxious?

Then a sense of horror dawned upon Al's mind. Why would the professor ask for them to meet alone now? Maybe the professor had told Scorpius about Al's Darker preferences. Maybe he was going to reveal his deepest darkest secret right now. Maybe…maybe what? Al forced down his paranoia. As much as he felt a strict aversion to the man, he knew that the professor wouldn't tell anybody. That much, Al still kept the him to.

With that reassurance, Al opened the door and stepped inside before he changed his mind.

~0~

Scorpius had been surprised when his godfather gave him the message. He was even more surprised to learn that it pertained to both him and Albus. What did Severus have in mind for the two of them? Surely…surely the man didn't know that Scorpius had followed Al that fateful day a month ago. But Scorpius didn't put it past his godfather to know that. He wouldn't put it past his godfather to know when the world was doomed to end. The man knew everything.

The thought of directly speaking to the second Potter had put Scorpius on edge. He had tried to keep from thinking about the Gryffindor but he just couldn't erase those emerald eyes from his brain. The very thought of a Potter as a Dark wizard…was just absurd. Albus Potter was born a Light wizard. He had a Light wizard's body. He _couldn't_ perform Dark magic, even if he wanted to. Yet those had been the Darkest eyes he had ever seen. And yes, that included both his grandfather and godfather. Quite frankly, it terrified Scorpius and his first reaction was to keep as far away from the other boy as possible. Maybe if he ignored it, it would go away. Out of sight, out of mind.

But Scorpius quickly realized that such thinking was silly and pathetic for somebody of his stature. He needed to face the problem and figure out what he was going to do about it. Besides the obvious questions of why did Albus have such a Dark soul and how he had become so, Scorpius needed to know who else knew. He knew for a fact that none of the Gryffindors were aware of it. If they did, the Potter boy would have been disowned by now at the very least. No, those gullible lions didn't even suspect a thing.

Scorpius couldn't bring to mind who else could possibly know. Albus wasn't particularly close to any of his professors and he had no intimate friends outside of his House. Now that Scorpius thought about it, Al had no close friends within his House either. He had only ever seen his classmate talk with his cousins for any real length of time. The Malfoy heir had nearly groaned to himself. Now that he knew the truth, it was all so obvious. Al was the only person in Gryffindor who had could win a verbal bout with a Slytherin. He was the only person in any of the Houses outside of Slytherin to actually practice the etiquette acknowledged for centuries in pureblood families. He was the only person to have no bone to pick with a Slytherin with the exception of Parkinson. Scorpius personally believed the overgrown brute to be a blatent shame on his House anyway. Parkinson was the most pathetic excuse for a Slytherin to have ever existed.

After delivering the message to Al during dinner, Scorpius had immediately made his way down into the Potions room to meet his godfather first. He loved his father very much but when it came to advice, Severus was the person to go to.

"Severus?"

The Potions Master looked up from the never-ending pile of papers in front of him and raised an eyebrow. "Yes?"

Scorpius licked his lips and blurted, "What do you do when you stumble upon secrets?"

It wasn't the most subtle way to ask. Scorpius wouldn't have put it so blatently had it been anybody but his godfather. But Severus saw through everything and it was just easier to get to the point when it came to him.

The professor pursed his lips and scrutinized his godson, looking for any clue as to why Scorpius had asked the question. Scorpius till couldn't completely hide whatever he held, but he had certainly gotten better over the years and he hoped that all of his experience now paid off.

After a long moment of silence, Severus replied, "I keep them to myself until I see oppurtunity."

Scorpius didn't ask what oppurtunity. He knew his godfather would only give him yet another cryptic answer. This was the best he was going to get for now.

Not that he would have had another chance to ask. Because just at that moment, the object of Scorpius's curiousity came sweeping into the room.

Scorpius took one look at the Gryffindor's Avada Kedavra eyes and remembered once again why he had spent the majority of the month avoiding the thought of a confrontation. Those eyes were just daring anybody to ask. But only at the risk of their neck.

No, Scorpius wouldn't do anything about it now. But when the time was right, he would get his answers. He wanted to know. And anything he wanted, he got.

* * *

><p><strong>Sorry for the short chapter. I know it's going really slowly right now but it'll pick up soon. I just really want to set the foundation for this and make it believable. Just like how I can't have Snape or Al flippantly accepting Al's sudden change to the Dark, I can't have Scorpius abruptly coming out of nowhere and demanding answers. He's Slytherin, after all. Self-preservation is top priority. He'll make sure the coast is clear before even dipping a toe in. <strong>

**My beta got around to editing this now :D So now most of choppy areas and holes have been fixed to an extent. **

**I hate taking things slow and doing "in-between" chapters like these but I think they're necessary...**

**And Jacob? Well, he'll be an interesting character to write...that's for sure! **


	8. Assignment

**I do not own Harry Potter.**

**And my beta finally looked this chapter over as well as chapter 7 :D There were a few minor changes here and there so if you're a stickler for accuracy then I suggest you go back and reread chapter 7.**

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><p>Al had the distinct feeling that he had just walked in on a rather private conversation. Scorpius had his mouth open, poised for a comment or question. The professor had been gazing intently at the Slytherin and both had been leaning across the desk in a confidential manner. The second Al stepped foot inside the room, Scorpius had snapped his mouth shut and the Potions Master had settled into his traditionally rigid position. Without so much as a glance in Al's direction, he waved his wand wordlessly and two emerald sitting chairs appeared in front of his desk.<p>

"Sit," he commanded.

Scorpius immediately attached his bottom to the nearest chair and Al couldn't help but scramble into the other. Something about the man's tone had allowed no argument or disobediance. Whatever warmth or small understanding Al had heard in the Potions Master's voice weeks ago had clearly disappeared. Why, Al didn't know.

"It had come to my attention that the two of you are at the top of my Potions class."

Al immediately relaxed. So that was it. The man wasn't doing this just because of him. This had nothing to do with Al's little dilemma.

Scorpius, always the politician, quickly replied, "You're too kind, sir. But we have quite a way to go to reach the level of Potions Master."

Al was almost jealous he hadn't come up with that. He was on the verge of agreeing and putting his piece in before he realized that he was still a Gryffindor. Just because he was alone with two Slytherins didn't mean he could lower his guard. Al bit back his words and sat quietly.

"Indeed, Scorpius. But that does not retract the fact that the two of you are clearly ahead of your fellow classmates." The professor steepled his fingers and assessed the two boys in front of him. "I think it would be a waste of both your time and my time if you stayed in this Potions class."

Al immediately paled. Was this a way for the man to be rid of him? Did the professor dislike Al's presence that much? Al had mixed feelings about this. He had mixed feelings about the Potions Master in general. He didn't hate the man. No, he couldn't hate somebody who had saved his life. Did he resent the man? Perhaps. Maybe some childish part of him was still angry with the man's rebuff a month earlier. But what had Al done to deserve this? Surely just attempting to ask a question didn't merit an expulsion from the class.

Then Scorpius's strangled choke of shock brought everything back into perspective. Al was just looking into this too much. If the professor was looking to get rid of him, why would he be dragging Scorpius into the mess too? Scorpius was the best brewer in all of Hogwarts. Even Al had to admit that. He was also the perfect Slytherin. The professor had nothing to hold against the Malfoy heir.

"Before you reach some inane conclusion about my statement," the Potions Master drawled. "I would like to mention that while I think you have no more need of _this_ Potions class, I think it prudent that you take my NEWT class instead."

A roar of confusion blocked out anything else that came to Al's mind. The professor was actually suggesting that the two of them take a class only sixth years or above took? Al wasn't blind. He knew that after Defense Against the Dark Arts, Potions was his best subject. But surely he didn't have the merit to actually be promoted to a NEWT level class. Scorpius deserved it, that was for sure, but did he? What was the professor trying to do with this? Was the man truly just pushing them forward as he claimed or was this some sort of test? In all of Hogwarts history, the man known as Professor Snape had never held any student in high enough regard to do this sort of thing, let alone two at the same time.

While Al was frozen, Scorpius managed to dumbly repeat, "Your…NEWT level class, sir?"

"I would certainly hope you speak the English language, Scorpius. If you do, I think you heard me clearly."

"But…sir…your NEWT level class?" It wasn't surprising that Scorpius was in shock as well. He was a genius at Potions but only the best of the best ever reached Severus Snape's NEWT Potions class.

The professor seemed tempted to roll his eyes. "If I need to repeat myself one more time, I will leave the matter alone. However, I do believe the two of you should move on. I have no need for extra bodies in the class."

Al jerked out of his stupor and tried, for the first time in a month, to look at his professor in the eye. He was disappointed when the elder wizard made no move to look back.

"I-I would be honored to join your NEWT class," Scorpius smiled tentatively. Al was surprised. Since when were Slytherins ever _shy_?

Al still wasn't sure about the professor's intentions but he knew for a fact that this was a no-brainer. If he joined the NEWT class, that would be one less class with his fellow Gryffindors and it would turn out to be quite a benefit to his resume when he applied for jobs after school.

"I would be honored as well," Al replied without a stutter.

The Potions Master nodded and Al could almost detect a sly twitch in the man's mouth. "But before I place you within the class, I would need to justify this decision. The Ministry would need to be notified and they would not consent to such a move unless the two of you displayed adequate reason to be placed ahead of your year."

"Aren't our marks enough?" Al asked.

Scorpius gave him a scandalized look but the professor merely shook his head. "They need more than that."

"Do they want us to brew a NEWT level potion for them?" Scorpius suggested.

"No. I think ingenuity would be the wise choice. In order for the two of you to be repositioned, you would either need to create a potion of your own or pick a potion and improve it to qualify for different uses with higher potency."

There was a heavy silence between the two boys. They understood what that task would entail. Creating a potion was difficult to say the least and improving a potion was no less a challenge. It took a full-fledged Potions Master months to create a potion worth using at the lowest potency. What could two fourth year students create or improve? By the time they came up with anything, they would probably be in their sixth year already.

"I understand the ramifications of such a demand. Therefore, the two of you will be working together on this project."

Both Scorpius and Al immediately jerked their heads up in surprise.

"Severus! You expect me to work with-"

"Professor! Malfoy is-"

"-this Gryffindor! He's completely-"

"-unacceptable! I can't-"

One glare rendered the boys mute. The professor's fierce, smoldering eyes bore into them and he harshly snapped, "I would have thought the two of you to be a little more mature for your age! Perhaps I should reconsider my previous statement. Two boys with no more self-restraint than five-year-olds have no place in my NEWT class."

Scorpius almost visibly wilted on the spot while Al struggled to maintain his posture. Al knew that whatever he had just spouted had been a stupid move. He would normally never go into such an outburst. But the shock of the sudden "promotion" and his confusion over the professor's actions made him temporarily lose control. Al groaned inwardly. The year had barely started and this was already his third incident.

"We will work together, professor, and you will see us in your NEWT class before the year is over."

Scorpius glanced up incredulously at the Gryffindor and the Potions Master quirked an eyebrow. Neither of them had expected Al to speak first. Al couldn't care less. Not anymore. If this was a way for him to escape his fellow Gryffindors for a time and gain an advantage for his future, then so be it. He wouldn't worry about the professor's intentions or the fact that his partner hated his family's guts. He wouldn't let emotion get in his way. He never had. Emotion dictated that he resist this offer. Logic told him to take it.

Scorpius hastily said, "I'll work with him, professor. We'll do this."

The elder wizard looked at his student for a long moment before he finally replied, "Very well. Both of you will no longer need to attend Potions. Instead, you will use that time and your own time to complete or improve a potion. I will give you free reign to a private lab and open use of my private stores." His eyes glittered dangerously. "But know that if you abuse these privileges even once, I will suspend you from both my NEWT and fourth year Potions classes."

Scorpius quickly nodded while Al just pursed his lips in barely supressed glee. He would have free use of the private storage. This was a great asset. The Dark book he had yet to return to the Potions Master mentioned many herbs and such. While Al couldn't take any outside of the storage for his own experiments, he could easily observe and study the ingrediants that the book mentioned so frequently.

"I will inform the Headmistress about your situation. I trust you will complete an adequate product." It was a clear dismissal. Scorpius stood up, completely himself again. He inclined his head in the professor's direction and swept out of the room.

Al stood up just as the other Slytherin exited and he hesitated. Should he face the professor now? They were alone for the first time in a long time. Maybe this would be the only chance. Al sought the man's eyes but saw that once again, the Potions Master was not looking at him. He was already busily correcting the pile of papers on his desk.

Al didn't need another hint. He tightened his lips and turned away.

He should have known better.

~0~

Severus couldn't help but feel a strange twince of guilt in his stomach as Albus shut the door behind himself a little harder than necessary. He knew the boy had been looking for eye contact. He knew that the boy had been waiting for some sign from his professor. But Severus hadn't given him any. And, somehow, the Potions Master was sure that whatever he had done was right. It didn't matter that, for the past month, he had been experiencing mild twitching attacks whenever he saw the Gryffindor in his class. It didn't matter that he had to keep his eyes from wandering over to the Gryffindor table to check that a certain green-eyed fourth year was faring well. It didn't matter that every time the boy had refused to acknowledge his presence it made some part of him wriggle in discomfort.

It didn't matter because he knew it was the right way. He couldn't push the boy any more. It would be solely his fault if the boy lived the rest of his life in internal torment. It just wouldn't work. Severus had thought that encouraging the boy to come to terms with his desires would be the right way to go. But now, he wasn't so sure. He knew Albus had goodness in him. Too much of it. As strong as his Dark affinity was, Severus realized that his Light was nearly just as strong. The boy was too much like his father for his own good. But the Potions Master knew that the boy was currently in anguish about what to do. Severus felt guilty about that as well. Now that the boy had openly admitted he was completely against his family's ideals, he would want to pursue his chosen path. But he couldn't do so alone. Severus knew that. The boy had probably reread the Dark book he had taken a month ago at least ten times by now. Yet Potions Mater couldn't bring himself to further push the boy down a path he knew the Gryffindor wouldn't be happy following. It would just be anguish. He would never be able ot perform the very magic he so loved.

Severus was doing the right thing. His mind knew this.

Now all he had to do was convince the rest of himself to believe it too.

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><p><strong>Agh. Sorry for the short chapter again! I just had to get this out. Just one more "in-between" chapter and then I can finally get started on the real business :)<strong>


	9. Jacob

**I do not own Harry Potter.**

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><p>It had been a sunny day when <em>it<em> happened.

The bright rays had lit the earth and its lush, rolling landscape. The flat, limestone plateau of Italy's Adriatic Plains stretched just north of the very sea (as it had for centuries) and while many found it one of Italy's less interesting regions, Jacob had thought it the most beautiful place on earth. It was almost useless when it came to farming, but Jacob's family had not been in the profession.

They had lived in a small cottage just on the outskirts of a small but profitable trading post. Many had passed through on their way to the Adriatic Sea but few bothered to stay. The constant change in the population had never left Jacob bored and he often did small tasks in his father's repair shop. The small knick-knacks had kept him entertained as well as the endless stories that travelers carried with them.

They had lived a peaceful life. Neither rich nor poor, they held no ill will towards the bourgeoisie and they showed limited amounts of sympathy to the proletariat that passed. They practiced small acts of kindness towards the poor and they gave the wealthy the respect they so demanded. It was, perhaps, not the most fulfilling life, but it had been Jacob's life.

Jacob could no longer remember his parents' faces. The only things he could remember about them were his mother's brown hair and his father's dull gold. He had been an only child and he could vaguely recall the small pleasure they afforded him in the forms of a small coin to spend at his liking or an extra gift or two on his birthday. It was a sort of detached feeling, but the loss still burned. It burned every time he saw a child smile at his mother or a father pick up his giggling child. Jacob couldn't help but remember that he was once in that positon himself.

Before _they _took it all away.

Before _they _came and obliviated any trace of his life.

Before_ they _appeared as his very own demons from Hell.

Jacob couldn't remember his parents' faces, but he could rememeber that one day as clearly as if it had just happened.

Jacob's parents had been busy helping a couple with a flat tire in the backyard of the store that day. He had wanted to come along as well, but he had been old enough at the age of ten to know that somebody had to handle the actual shop and register. As kind and charming as many of the travelers had been, Jacob knew that there were just as many who were the complete opposite.

The shop had been busy. Running back and forth from the storage, giving directions to certain shelves, and securing any payment that was exchanged left him occupied. Jacob had found the job rather tedious and tiring but he had always came away with a sense of accomplishment.

"Excuse me."

Jacob had glanced around the pile of supplies he had been organizing and spotted a small man with the distinct features of a rodent.

"Yes?" Jacob had hesitantly replied. He hadn't been one to judge people by their appearances but this single man had made Jacob want to gag.

The man had shuffled his hands together before he chittered, "Could you please help me for a little bit? I…need a few directions."

Jacob had wondered why the man needed directions. There had been only one road that led to the city and away from it. You either wanted to go one way or the other. You only two choices. Surely it couldn't have been that hard? But Jacob hadn't been one to pass up an opportunity to take have a small break from his job so he had placed his supplies to the side and followed the little man outside the shop.

"If you take a right," Jacob had pointed. "You'll head deeper inland. It takes about an hour to reach a crossroads but once you reach it, there will be a sign indicating one leading further north and another leading futher west. If you head ot the left, you'll head towards the Adriatic Sea and there will be a small port there if you wish to traverse any further."

The man had nodded absently and twitched a little before asking, "What about the plains?"

Jacob had given the man an incredulous look. "I'm sorry, sir, but what about the plains?"

"What can you tell me about them?"

There hadn't been much to tell. "It's just grass, sir. Maybe a few pitfalls here and there but nothing you would want to explore or farm. There's only a thin layer of soil before you reach the limestone beneath."

The man had tittered to himself for a long moment as Jacob uncomfortably shifted in place. Just as the younger was about to leave, the man asked, "What of the animals in the area?"

Jacob had narrowed his eyes. "Sir, hunting is strictly prohibited here."

"I'm not hunting, boy!" The man's eyes widened at his own outburst and he hastily wiped whatever spittle had escaped his lips in the exclamation. As far as Jacob was concerned, he had no longer wanted anything to do with the man. The more time he had spent with him, the more he had wanted to return to the shop. Back to his chittering, the man said, "I'm just wondering what sort of creatures are out there."

"There are some foxes or wolves as well as a few other smaller animals," Jacob had ground out. Then he had quickly turned away in an attempt to escape the awkward situation only to nearly jump out of his skin as a clawed hand had lashed out to clutch his arm.

"Now, boy…I just have a few more questions…"

Jacob had shuddered. He hadn't caught the darker undertones in the man's voice back then, but he had registered the danger at a more primitive level. "I-I'm sorry, sir. I really need to get back to to the store."

"Now none of that," another voice had cooed.

Jacob had whirled around in shock to see that a strange woman had somehow made her way behind him. Her hair had been a wild mass of black curls and her gaunt frame, which had probably once been very beautiful, had hung in a threadbare, black dress. Her skin had been eerily white and her eyes had glittered with the unmistakable signs of madness. That was when Jacob had begun to truly panic. He would have called out, but the small area where he had followed the man gave a clear view of the road without the human crowd that normally stood in the way.

"S-sir…I really need to go…"

"Now don't be so mean," the woman had giggled. "Won't you entertain us for a little bit? It was so nice of you to give the rat some directions but we're so tired from traveling and we need a little relaxation…a little bit of…_fun_."

The way the woman had caressed the word erased all doubt that both she and her companion (the rat she had referred to?) were nothing but dangerous and insane.

"Please…"

"Aw…did you hear that, Wormtail? The little boy said '_please_'."

The rat man had flinched a little and cast Jacob a look of pity. "Ah, Miss Bellatrix –"

"Hold him."

Jacob had lost all sense of self-control and he had immediately begun to scream and wriggle in the man's grasp. "Let me go! I'm going to call the police! You have no right to be doing this! I won't let this –"

Jacob had been cut short as he choked on a sudden pressure to his throat. He had glanced down to find the woman holding a sort of stick that jabbed at him.

"I like your screams…but we don't want to attract any attention, right love?"

Jacob had no idea how the woman intended to use a stick to threaten him, of all things, but he hadn't argued back. For all he had known, she could have been carrying a knife or gun somewhere else.

"Mistress…we should go now. We've gotten the information we need."

Suddenly, the pressure on Jacob's throat had lessened and the grip on his arm had jerked away as the man, Wormtail, fell to the ground writhing in pain. Jacob had been startled and more surprised than anything else. What had happened? Had somebody heard his screams? Jacob had searched the source of Wormtail's pain only to uncomprehendingly see the woman, Bellatrix, pointing her stick at the man with vindictive glee.

What Jacob saw had told him that, somehow, the pain was coming from the stick. But logic had told him that it had been impossible. How could pointing a stick at somebody cause so much pain? The surrealily of it all temporarily froze Jacob in place before common sense had finally kicked in and he scrambled away in terror.

Jacob had only been ten at the time and he had reacted as all children did at the time: he had automatically dashed in search of his parents. He had woven his way throught he store's shelves with practiced ease but the touch of panic had left his knees weak and he had stumbled more than a few times. His clumsiness had increased when he heard the tell-tale clicking of heels behind him. Heels had only meant one thing: the woman. At near-hysteria, he had burst out the back door and had fallen to his knees a few feet away from his parents.

There had been a frozen moment of brief incredulity. If a madwoman and her henchman hadn't been on Jacob's heels, he would have laughed at the comical effect it seemed to exude. But Jacob had had a madwoman with her rat henchman at his heels and all he could even think of doing had been to spout whatever had come to his mind.

"T-There's a lady and this rodent man who I tried to help b-but then he grabbed me and the lady popped out of nowhere and then she began to hurt the man with her piece of wood and then I escaped but now she's –"

"Jacob!" his mother had interrupted. She had cast a concerned look with Jacob's father and then turned to the customer they had been helping. "We're sorry about this. You know boys, they just get into the strangest situations."

"No! They're coming, mom! We have to run! The woman is going to hurt us with her stick!"

"Now, Jacob," his father had soothed. "I'm sure there was just a misunderstanding."

"Oh, has the little boy been telling mommy and daddy about his adventures?"

Jacob had shrieked in terror at the sound of Bellatrix's voice and had scrambled over to his mother. He had clung to his mother's cardigan and whimpered into her chest.

Jacob's mother had scowled and demanded, "What have you done to my son to scare him so? I'm sure you must have some sort of explanation for this."

Either Bellatrix hadn't heard or had chosen to ignore the question. She had promptly locked eyes with the customer Jacob's parents had been helping and grinned.

"You seem to be in the way of a family introduction…perhaps it's time that you stopped being so rude."

Whatever happened next, Jacob hadn't comprehended. The woman had flicked her stick at the customer and shouted something eerily similar to "abracadabra". The next moment, a green light had flashed from the end of the stick and struck the customer. Jacob remembered thinking that the light had been beautiful yet horrendous, both at the same time. It had crackled with energy and power beyond anything a mortal might have ever comprehended. It was only when his father had shouted in astonishment that Jacob had noticed that the customer had no longer been moving. He had been staring, slumped against his tire with sightless eyes.

"What have you done?" Jacob's father had exclaimed. "You-you killed him!"

Jacob had shivered when Bellatrix had laughed aloud. Something about the laugh had a certain hysterical glee that only a demon could have uttered.

"Now that he's out of the way, let's have some _fun_."

Whatever had transpired afterward had changed Jacob's life forever. He had never forgotten the way the insane witch had ordered Wormtail to hold him down as she mercilessly played with his parents. He had watched in horror as she froze his father in place to watch as she slowly conjured a knife from thin air and carved her initials into his mother's chest. The sight of so much blood running freely had caused Jacob to retch his entire stomach on to the ground. In disgust, Wormtail had punched him hard in the ribs and a searing pain had left him panting for air. By the time Jacob had collected himself, Bellatrix had left his mother unrecognizable. All there had been left was a pile of misshapen cartilage, blood, and bones. All Jacob could do at the time was watch as his father had fallen to the same fate.

Jacob had known he had been next. He had known and had been prepared for it, even at the age of nine. All he had wanted was to go to the same place his parents had gone. He hadn't wanted to be alone in the world. But fate had a cruel twist of humor and just as Bellatrix had begun to trail a finger down his young face, a group of startled customers had come searching after hearing the screams.

Jacob had never forgotten. Not even after he had been cleared of all charges and freed from prison. Not even after a filthy rich foster family chose to raise him despite his shifty past. Not even after he had procured a position in the country's most prestigious academy for boys.

Not even after he had found others like him.

Not even after he had joined Antincanto.

Jacob had never forgotten. He had never forgiven.

And as he looked down at those same insane eyes that had stolen his happiness and childhood away from him, he wanted so badly to feel happiness or completion. He wanted to feel a justification for the last six years of his life he had dedicated to his revenge. He wanted to feel a rightiousness in the world that he had so long been denied.

But as he pulled the trigger and watched in morbid fascination as the magically enhanced bullet carved its way into Bellatrix's skull, he couldn't help but notice the complete lack of satisfaction. And as the last of the light in the madwoman's eyes died out, Jacob suddenly realized that whatever he had been doing had been for naught.

He would never find solace. Any completion he had ever wanted out of life was null and void. If he couldn't even find a small twinge of happiness at the death of his parents' murderer, he knew that nothing else could.

There was only one road he could travel now and that was the road he had been traveling for years. He had to keep the vow he had made to himself years ago.

He had to eradicate magic.

~0~

"Did you hear?"

Al glanced up at his Potions partner and raised an eyebrow. "If you're talking about your great-aunt's death, then yes. Even if I hadn't read the morning paper, I think I would have heard it by now. The entire school has been talking about all day."

Scorpius flushed. "Well, what do you think of it?"

Al was surprised by Scorpius's audacity. For the past week, they had been meeting during their regular Potions period to discuss their project together. Al had been cautious and tight-lipped, only saying what needed to be said. He was still suspicious of the Malfoy Heir and he had a distinct feeling that his classmate was hiding something. Al hadn't missed all the times Scorpius snuck assessing looks at him. Yet despite the blantant curiousity, Scorpius had been just as silent. He had only contributed what he needed to contribute and that had been that. They had made decent progress on their ideas but the stiff communication was becoming a slight hindrance. Yet today it seemed like the Slytherin was breaking that traditional wall of silence.

Just as a Gryffindor would have, Al gave Scorpius a scornful look and declared, "I think the world a better place with one less Death Eater running around."

Scorpius gave him a quizzical look, something Al hadn't been expecting. He had thought that the Malfoy would have given a mini-explosion at the indirect insult to his family. Al knew that Scorpius would have done so if one of his siblings had been sitting in his place.

"Well, maybe, but what do you think of _how _she died?"

Al was starting to think that Scorpius was accumulating some of his godfather's unpredictableness. The Slytherin had brushed off the Death Eater comment like it had been nothing and continued. Apparently, the Malfoy Heir had grown up with little regard for his great-aunt.

But his potions partner brought up an interesting question. What the way Bellatrix had died was curious. How did the Dark Lord's ex-right hand woman end up dead by a Muggle weapon? Surely she had some protective wards around herself. Even the weakest could have stopped a bullet.

"I don't know," Al honestly replied. "I think maybe she had gotten a little careless in her age and forgotten her wards."

"She wouldn't," Scorpius said with finality.

Al frowned and looked closely at the blond. Today, his classmate didn't seem focused at all. He hadn't even looked in Al's direction the entire day, which was strange considering how much scrutiny he had been giving for the past week.

Secure that Scorpius wouldn't notice Al's lack of Gryffindorishness at the moment, he slyly asked, "Why do you say that?"

"Because we never forget to put wards up. We never drop our guard. We know that we have enemies and we're prepared for it."

Something about the way Scorpius had said it seemed like a mantra he had been taught to repeat. Al put down the quill and parchment he had been writing on and put it to the side. It was obvious they weren't going to get anything related to Potions done today.

"Are you…upset about this?"

"No!" Scorpius snapped. "I'm not!"

Al's eyes widened. Surprise, surprise. A Malfoy was losing his composure. Was it apocalypse?

"Something tells me that yelling 'I'm not' means 'I am'."

Scorpius groaned and buried his face in his hands. Al was more than a little startled now. He was mostly Slytherin at heart and Slytherins weren't comfortable with any situation tied to emotion. But just because he was uncomfortable didn't mean he didn't know how to deal with it.

"Did you know her?"

Scorpius glared distrustfully at him, showing some suspicion he had always afforded all Gryffindors save Al until the moment. But the initial doubt seemed to melt off Scorpius's face and he turned away to stare at the ground.

"She used to come over once a year…usually on the run or something like that. I didn't like her. She was crazy as a bat and ten times more vicious. She would occasionally test me and I'd come out with more than a few cuts." The Slytherin moaned and buried his face in his hands again. "But…she was family, you know? I hated her guts but something about the way she'd come in and out like some whirlwind was captivating. Something about that _power_…no…it wasn't just the power…there was just something lost about her even though she seemed so powerful. In her whirlwind she seems impenetrable but if you look beyond that you can see that she was lost."

Al sighed and leaned back in his chair. He had a pretty good idea of what Scorpius was talking about. He felt the same way about his family. He disliked them all for never noticing who he truly was yet there was some sort of odd lingering attachment to them. They were family. He understood. Al had always thought it a Gryffindor weakness of his. So either Scorpius was more Gryffindor than he had originally thought or this feeling was a normal.

"I get it."

Scorpius twitched and then broke away from his hands to stare at Al in surprise. Al looked back and held stood his ground. He knew that if he looked away or seemed weak on his declaration, than the Malfoy would declare him a liar and they would be hard pressed to get any further than stiff partnership. He needed Scorpius to know that he was telling the truth. If anything, this would make his façade even more convincing. No Slytherin would admit to knowing and feeling the same weakness.

Something seemed to click between the two in that small moment. It wasn't sentimentality or pity or some sort of emotional connection. It was a platonic connection that made the two realize that they _understood_.

Maybe they were a long ways off from trust but there was a link that hadn't been there before.

* * *

><p><strong>So I've finally updated! Yay! It's not as long as my first chapter but it's definitely longer than the last few. About a thousand words longer or so. I actually have a whole scene planned out but I didn't want to put it in this one because then it would drag on for too long. <strong>

**Alright, so now there's more on Jacob. No, I did not get the name inspiration from a certain werewolf. It just seemed to fit and I stuck with it. He's about fifteen now (I mentioned it had been six years since his memory when he was nine but I did the math for you just in case you were too lazy to do it), about a year older than Al. I actually wanted to make them the same age but then I realized that maybe having Jacob a year older would suit my plans for the future better. **

**And to answer some questions that might come up: **

**Bellatrix didn't put up silencing spells while she was killing Jacob's parents because it was all in the moment. When you're on a killing spree and you're a little more than mad like her, you don't want to stop for some silly nonsense like security issues. It was sort of a on-the-spot decision for her anyway. **

**When Voldemort died, I made it so that all of the Inner Circle escaped. The majority now live in some fancy villas in foreign countries, hoarding their money, but some like Bellatrix just couldn't leave things be. What was she doing with Wormtail? Terrorizing Muggles of course! She just couldn't let go of the past and she clung to the illusion that Voldemort would eventually return and she wanted to be ready for him by killing off as many of the inferior breed as she possibly could. Wormtail was forced to tag along fyi. Both you and I know that he would never continue if there was nothing in it for him. **

**Antincanto is an organization. I'll explain more in the oncoming chapters. If it helps any, I based it off "Anti" and "Incanto". I just joined the two together and there came the name! (I told you I suck at naming.) **

**No, Scorpius isn't some sappy wuss crying for his great-auntie. I put in that he disliked her but the even the faintest connection had hurt. He wasn't crying, if I must point out...just a little shocked. He had grown up thinking Bellatrix one of the older generation, one of the powerful Death Eaters of another age and time like his grandfather. He thought them impenetrable - something I tried to portray through Scorpius's poor explanation of his feelings. I did that on purpose. Slytherins shouldn't be able to express their feelings and that scene hadn't been from Scorpius's POV. So I tried my best via Al's POV. **

**Turns out I think that I will have to have a few more "in-between" chapters...GAH. **


	10. Invitation

**I do not own Harry Potter. **

* * *

><p>James couldn't believe what he was hearing. Surely there was something wrong with his ears because whatever he was hearing couldn't be true. It just couldn't.<p>

"Are you sure?" Lily demanded. Her brow was furrowed in suspicion and anxiety. "You must have heard wrong, Lorcan."

Lorcan Scamander was an old friend. He took after his eccentric mother in terms of looks. He had her pale complexion and smooth skin along with the white-blonde hair that rivaled the Malfoy genes. The only difference were his distinctly bright blue eyes. Beyond the appearance, though, Lorcan took little else from his mother. He had his father's curiosity and tendency to poke to his nose into the smallest things. Lorcan was smart and that was reflected in the Ravenclaw crest he carried on his robes. He spent most of his time with Lily and if somebody wanted to find either of them, he/she would have mostly likely found them together diligently finishing their homework or occasionally getting into trouble with the Gryffindors.

Said Ravenclaw bit his lip. "Do you think I would tell you this if I wasn't sure, Lily? I know what I heard."

"I second that," Lorcan's twin said. "I was with him, after all."

James had seen that coming. What else could you expect but fierce loyalty from a Hufflepuff? Lysander was the spitting image of his brother, save for his hazel-colored eyes. He was the younger of the two by two minutes and his compassion was second only to his intelligence. Many often wondered why the younger twin hadn't been placed in Ravenclaw with his brother, but the hardworking and caring traits shone far more in Lysander than it did in Lorcan.

James liked them both. He had grown up thinking them family just as he had grown up thinking the Longbottom siblings his own. Together, the twins were a devastating duo of charm and wit. Individually, they were just as formidable in their respective strengths. They were like second brothers to James and he had every reason to trust them. Yet now he was almost wishing he did have reason to distrust them.

"That's ridiculous. Snape doesn't allow anybody to skip a year ahead, much less several years," James snorted. "Besides, he hates our family's guts. You guys must have been confused."

Lysander shot James a crippling look at the lack of belief. "Really, James?"

Lorcan, always the blunt one, added, "Don't pretend like you don't know. Just because you're a whole two years ahead doesn't mean that you don't hear the stories. None of us are in Al's classes, but the entire school knows."

James couldn't stop the sickening sense of nausea rising up his throat. He glanced around the Library, where they were convening, and said, "Well, Al is really smart…for his age. It's no surprise he's decent at Potions."

"Don't pretend like that, James. You know it. You know that Professor Snape never hounds on Al like he does you and Lily. Al's the only one of you guys who escapes that treatment."

Sometimes, James wished the twins hadn't inherited their parents' tendency to state the truth. "Well, it's not like the git favors him either."

"He's just brilliant," Lily sniffed proudly.

"Then so is Malfoy," Lorcan interjected. "He got the offer too according to what I heard."

James scowled. "He's better than that prat and you know it. Al is too good to be compared to the likes of Death Eater spawn."

There was a moment of silence and for a horrible moment, James actually doubted what he had just said. Then, to his relief, Lily said, "Of course. That's obvious."

"So how does that explain the fact that Al is now preparing to join the NEWT potions class?" challenged Lorcan. "Rumors like that don't just pop up. There's always a drop of truth in them."

"Just a drop," James dismissed. "And you know what? I'm going to ask Al himself. He'll prove to you guys just how ridiculous this sounds."

"Why do you sound as if you don't want this to happen? If anything, I thought you and Lily would be excited for him. It's almost like a barb in Snape's side to have to offer such a thing to a Potter."

Damn Lorcan and his Ravenclaw logic. Lily had it too but James never had a problem overriding it with his elder sibling authority. "Well, it's just…"

"Just what?"

"Look, Lorcan –"

"Don't 'look' me, James. This is a good thing and you know it. Why do you insist upon proving it false?"

"Because we don't know it's true yet," Lily retorted.

"Know what is true?"

All of them snapped their attention to the Library entrance and felt the flame of shame as Al watched them. For a moment, all they could do was sit under curious emerald eyes that stared them down with a hint of accusation. The gaze would have seemed frightfully Slytherin if Al hadn't looked like he had just come from a researching spree. His sleeves were rolled up asymmetrically and splotches of ink dotted his hands and face. Books were stacked sky-high in his arms and leaflets of loose paper were sticking out in all directions. One particularly large splash of ink on his nose caught James's attention and he suddenly burst out laughing.

"You look like a quill just attacked you!"

Al's lips tightened and he stormed up to dump his load on the table in front of them. He placed his hands on his hips and demanded, "What were you guys talking about?"

The outburst sent a flash of relief through James's chest. It was such a Gryffindor thing to do. No other house had the audacity to bluntly question somebody private conversation like that, family or not.

"Lorcan and Lysander were just repreating a rumor," Lily began. "About you."

Al raised one eyebrow, something James noticed his little brother had recently picked up. "About me?"

James grinned, suddenly reassured about his brother's position. "They were just telling us how some of the Ravenclaws were saying Snape offered you a chance to move up in Potions. But all of us know that the git would never do that even if you were qualified for it. He hates us, you know?"

James smiled, confident that whatever the twins had been saying were lies. How could such a thing be true? His brother might have been smart but not _that _smart.

There was a chilling silence and James peered up at Al from his seat. His brother was still standing and he had suddenly gone very still. A sudden foreboding hit James. No, it couldn't be true. If it were…

"They…they weren't wrong, James," Al whispered.

It took a few moments before James could force the frozen smile off his face. He didn't know why, but a sense of intense insecurity and shock battered him. Shock was something James could vaguely comprehend. It was understandable to be shocked that somebody, much less his Gryffindor baby brother, had been pushed ahead in Potions. What really made James uncomfortable was the insecurity. Why was he suddenly insecure? He was never insecure. He was confident and James knew he always understood where he stood. Yet this one statement made him feel like a piece in his life had suddenly tipped. What was it? Was it the fact that maybe he didn't know his brother as well as he thought he did? No, that was just ridiculous. He knew his brother. They had grown up together. James was sure he knew his brother.

Yet the next thing he knew, James had jumped out of his seat. "Don't lie to me, Al!"

Al looked up, startled for a second. Then he bravely stood his ground and said, "I wasn't lying. Professor Snape did offer me a chance to move up in Potions."

"Don't be stupid. Snape never does that kind of stuff. Never. Especially not to us."

"But I was –"

"Just because you're a little intelligent doesn't mean you should go around spreading lies like this, Al." James didn't know why he was suddenly saying all of this. He knew his brother was telling the truth. He rarely lied. But something about the whole situation had made his skin tingle with dread and he wanted to deny it.

Al's face contorted in anger. "James, you're the one being stupid. Why do you think I would be lying about this?"

James growled. "You…you _couldn't_ have been offered this. I don't know why you insist on this – this lie!"

"What lie?" Al hissed. Something about the younger wizard's anger had suddenly turned cold. It made James shiver. Gryffindor anger was hot, not cold.

"Al, you're just being ridiculous."

Something dark flashed in Al's eyes and James couldn't help but remember all of the other times he had seen that same look. He had always ignored those brief flashes of darkness from his brother but now he had seen it head-on. Something dangerous had crept up in Al's eyes and James felt a thrill of fear.

"I see you're going to stick to your pig-headed stubborness. Again." Al's voice had gone deadly calm. "Then I will not stay to argue with your _ego_. I would have thought my own _brother_ would be happy for me. I guess asking for that would be too much. After all, the only thing you are ever proud about is _Quidditch_. Really, it's no surprise. It's the only thing you _can_ be proud about." Al snatched up his books with cold decision and ran disdainful eyes at the rest of the frozen audience. "And I suppose you are backing him up. No surprise there either."

He was gone in a whirlwind of papers, books, and chilling fury.

~0~

Anger was becoming too friendly with Al and he knew it. Since when did he go around snarling insults at his brother, of all people? He knew better than to lose his temper. Or so Al had thought before he had begun his Fourth Year.

He sighed tiredly and pressed his palms to his eyes. Al had gone straight to the extra Potions room he had been meeting Scorpius in. He didn't really know why because he usually went straight to his four-poster bed for privacy. But he had let his feet lead him in his fury and here he was. It actually seemed like a logical decision on his feet's part. The room could only be opened by Scorpius, Professor Snape, and himself. The professor had never come down and he wouldn't be meeting Scorpius for another fifteen minutes. He knew his partner would still be researching right now. Al had been doing the same before meeting his brother in the Library but he could only study Potions for so long. Just because he was good at it didn't mean he loved the subject. He would have rather been reading his Defense Against the Dark Arts books instead…or maybe even rereading the borrowed Dark book for the twentieth time.

It had taken him nearly half and hour before he could quell his anger. It was…it was just the pure _audacity_ of his brother to say that he wasn't good enough to be advanced to another class. It was what James had essentially said, hadn't it? And he had assumed Al had lied. Lying was one of the capital offenses in the Gryffindor eyes and even though Al held no values on Gryffindor views, it had still stung. What right did his brother have to say such a thing? He might have been brilliant in sports and miniscule things like tricks but Al knew his brother had dismal grades.

It was infuriating to be told he wasn't good enough.

Al hissed through his teeth and had to force down another wave of anger. He couldn't brood on this now. He had to be calm by the time Scorpius came down. If he wasn't, he would be able to think clearly and that was exactly what he needed to be able to do during their meetings. Al had to admit that Scorpius was absolutely brilliant when it came to Potions. Al was good but Scorpius just had natural talent in the area. As brilliant as Al could be, he knew that Scorpius would someday surpass him in this particular field.

Al sighed again and straightened in his seat. It wouldn't do to be weak in front of the Malfoy heir. They had been getting on better lately but they weren't exactly what you would call close. They tolerated each other's presence better and maybe even shared a few jibes here and there but nothing more. Al couldn't let it be anything more. The Slytherin would surely catch on to his secret before long and it was bad enough that Professor Snape knew.

No, he couldn't think about Professor Snape now. That would just bring up another list of things to be angry about. The man was still ignoring him.

The sound of the door being opened snapped Al out of his negative mindset. He quickly composed his face and turned expectantly towards the door. Surely enough, the white-blond head of the Malfoy heir poked through the entrance before it was quickly followed by robes accented with emerald and silver. A stack even larger than Al's, if possible, was balancing precariously in Scorpius's arms and he was struggling with the door.

Al couldn't stop the small smirk that came to his lips and didn't even try to hide his grin when Scorpius suddenly lost his balance and the books became airborne. He chuckled as he cast a wordless levitating charm and watched as the pureblood scion went sprawling on the stone floor.

"Need a little help?"

Scorpius scowled up at him and stood up before closing the door behind him. "You decide to rescue the books but not me?"

Al shrugged. "I just rescued the things of more value."

The Slytherin seemed on the verge of a stinging retort before he froze and a small grin came over his face. "You're insufferable."

"And I don't know why I'm partnered with a klutz."

Scorpius smirked. "Well this _klutz_ just happened to find the perfect potion to alter for our project."

They had decided a while back to alter a potion rather than creating a completely new one. It might have been slightly easier to create something nobody else had before but it would most likely turn out obscure and anythign but helpful. Many Potion Masters created their own concoctions but they never became anything more than words in a textbook. Both of them wanted to create something that would actually be used and worthy in the eyes of the Ministry. It would make their advancement to the NEWT class just that much more secure.

But the process in finding an alterable potion had proved to be fruitless so far. So Al couldn't help but widen his eyes in surprise. "You did?"

Scorpius seemed bloating with smug victory. "Well, seeing as I'm a klutz, I think it's better that I don't tell you. You probably have something better."

Al bit the inside of his cheek. Ugh. The Slytherin had him there. He hadn't come up with anything worthwhile yet and if his partner had…_stumbled_ upon something then he wouldn't let it pass. "Just tell me, Scorpius."

"I don't know…"

"Do you want to advance or not?"

Scorpius smirked. "Well, I could just do this on my own. Who ever said we had to do this together?"

Damn Slytherins. Maybe this was why Al had wanted to be in Gryffindor. "Scorpius. You know it would take you too long alone." Or so Al hoped it would.

Scorpius relented. "Maybe. But…"

"Fine," Al bit out. "I take back the comment on your obvious lack of coordination."

"Nope. I still think I'll keep this to myself."

Al had to admit that he had stuck himself in this hole. He had initiated the row and here he was paying the price. No Slytherin would allow such a chance to slip through their fingers. "What do you want?"

Scorpius seemed thrown by that. Apparently, he hadn't been expecting Al to relinquish to quickly. "What?"

"Are you deaf? I asked what you wanted."

The other boy was silent for a long time. It set Al's teeth on edge. Clearly, the blond was considering something big. The only question was whether Al was going to be willing to pay the price. It was just a project…but Al desperately wanted to get ahead. He was bored and he couldn't stand being bored and tortured by Gryffindors all day.

"I want you to come to my house on Halloween. My father always hosts a…party."

Al shook his head. Maybe Ms. Scamander had been right about Nargles because his mind had clearly heard something incorrectly. "Say that again?"

Scorpius scowled. "And you tell me I'm deaf? I asked you to come to my house for a Halloween party."

Alright. This was probably a dream. Actually, it was more like a nightmare. Al bit his lip. "You want me to go to your Halloween party?"

"It's more like a celebration. In honor of All Hallows Eve."

Al shivered. He had read enough to know just how important that day was for Dark wizards and it sent a slight wave of anticipation through his stomach to be invited to a Dark wizard's house on such a day. Even if this was some sort of hallucination, it wouldn't hurt to accept, right?

"Okay, Malfoy. I'll go. Now spill."

Al didn't miss the flare of victory in Scorpius's face and he wondered what, exactly, the Malfoy heir had just won.

"I'll send you the invitation in a few days."

"Wonderful. Now what about the potion?"

The Slytherin gave Al something that could be related to a vampire's smile. "It was so obvious I'm surprised you hadn't figured it out yet. We're going to be altering Felix Felicis."

* * *

><p><strong>I'm sorry for taking this so slowly. I keep on saying I'll be getting to the main plot but I really just want to make this NOT a rush job. Argh. <strong>

**I'm planning on having fight scenes (of course) later on when I finally do get to the main plot. But I'm REALLY BAD at those kinds of scenes. Could you guys offer me some advice on how to make such scenes believable? **

**There'll be sporadic moments for Jacob but for now I want to focus on Al. But who knows, my line of storytelling is sporadic and I often change my ideas on the spot! **


	11. Trip

**I do not own Harry Potter.**

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><p>Al spent the next few days pointedly avoiding any contact with his family members. He would have preferred to have avoided all Gryffindors in general but it was impossible with one-fourth of the school's population sporting gold and red. News traveled quickly and soon there were whispers among almost all of the Houses about the very first sibling spat between Albus and James Potter.<p>

In a way, Al had been almost pleased with such whispers. It gave him a whole new dimension to his character without jeapardizing his façade. He had every right to be angry at his brother as a Gryffindor. They kept honor and pride in high regard and James had gone far beyond the line of insulting Al's pride. That gave him just the right excuse to be justifiably angry at his brother.

Al was also minutely pleased to note that almost nobody knew _why_ they were arguing. It was a question that everybody wanted answered but nobody had managed to peel it from the lips of anybody who had known. It had puzzled Al at first but then he realized with sadistic glee that whomever had told his brother and sister had felt guilty for playing a part in the argument. James himself, Al knew, felt guilty for his incorrect accusations. If he hadn't, Al's advancement towards the NEWT class would have been made public by now.

His family didn't know that the advancement wasn't written in stone yet. They didn't know he was meeting with Scorpius to complete their project. That in itself was also a relief. He had no doubt that all of them would have had a conniption fit at the mere idea of their collaboration and he just didn't feel like he could deal with any more confrontations at the moment. Al needed time to cool down and get his head back in the game. If anything happened soon, he would probably just blow his top again. Just a few more days and he would be the perfect little Gryffindor again. Those few days needed would be given to him because he had a right to be angry in the Gryffindor eyes and that was, yet again, why he was rather satisfied with the outcome.

But that wasn't the reason why Al was pleased at the moment. If anything, the thought of the quarrel was the farthest thing from his mind because he had more important things to worry about.

Today was one of the Hogsmeade trips and everybody was excited for a change. It was one of the few events in the school that Al actually looked forward too as well. But it was for very different reasons. During his first few visits last year, Al had quickly become bored with the local shops and decided to promptly make his trips more exciting. It had been one of the only ways he indulged his true persona.

Headmistress McGonagall was unrelenting on the school boundaries. She never allowed any student to make it off-campus during the school year unless allowed and anybody caught sneaking out was promptly handed to Filch to do as he liked. Or worse: placed in the hands of a cranky Professor Snape. Needless to say, not even James dared to do anything outside campus. The thought of leaving the school had never even crossed Al's mind, but leaving the boundaries placed during their Hogsmeade trips was another story.

Compared to how strictly the boundaries of Hogwarts were watched, the supervision was almost non-existent during the Hogsmeade visitations. The kids had to be given free reign to walk around as they pleased and the teachers could only do so much in terms of warding the border. They couldn't keep out or trap any potential travelers to the town just because the students were taking a trip.

Al took advantage of this fact the very second he had first stepped into Hogsmeade. He had stayed a few hours with his friends and family to avoid any suspicion and then proclaimed that he was tired before disappearing from sight. Nobody doubted for a second that little Albus truly went back to Hogwarts because Al always made sure that he made it back before they did. It was never hard to place a tracking charm on his friends' robes to warn him when they were nearing the castle.

During his periods of freedom, Al escaped to the wonders of London and Knockturn Alley. He had learned how to use glamours by the end of his Second Year in anticipation of the trips and he had neatly created his own guise named Luke Ryan.

Luke Ryan was the complete opposite of Albus Potter's façade. Luke had startlingly blonde hair (inspiration courtesy of the Malfoys) and his eyes were a twinkling blue (inspiration courtesy of Albus Dumbledore's portrait – Al had always found the twinkling eyes a little unsettling). He was selfish, arrogant, vain, and unabashedly charming when he needed to be. Few knew Luke existed, but those who did knew better than to make an enemy out of him. He was rich, well-learned, and influential. When somebody failed to do as he asked, they often found themselves bankrupt and destitute in a matter of days.

But Luke Ryan, outside of Knockturn Alley and the shady corners of Diagon Alley, was little more than a Muggle who lived alone. Al had a certain degree of interest in the world outside of the Wizarding one and he explored that interest through Luke. He didn't find it as fascinating as Grandpa Weasley did, but he thoguht it important to know and understand the Muggle society. After all, they did make up the majority of the world. Wizards and witches only made up a mere thirty percent of the entire population while Muggles made up the other seventy. While many wizards arrogantly thought the non-magical world a mere inconvenience, Al realized long ago that Muggles could actually pose a threat. Perhaps magical beings could have easily dispatched and controlled Muggles before, but there had been improvements and the majority of the world was no longer as primitive as spears and swords. Now there were guns and technology that could detect and kill another from a distance – undetected. How could a wizard fight against something they couldn't spot? Magic and wards could only do so much. Al didn't think the magical society weak in any way. He thought they could actually do a lot of damage if they wished to, but the growing disinterest in Muggle ways put the magical at the disadvantage. Al knew what isolationism did to those who chose it. It put them in a bubble of their own, quickly left behind in the constant wheel of change.

So Al had long since decided to keep himself as informed as possible on the latest Muggle advancements. Luke had easily gotten the head of the technological improvements department in the MI6 under his thumb and he was setting his sights on the CIA's as well. Through some small but dangerous threats, Luke had all of the information he needed to keep a tab on the Muggle world. But sometimes it was still fun to delve into the a world he hadn't known very well until recent years and Al found it entertaining to watch Muggles go about their business.

Al hummed merrily to himself as he placed the last of his necessities into his bottomless pouch (given to him by Aunt Hermione) in the Gryffindor Dormitories. It had been a few months since Luke had shown his face to the world and all of the Dark magic and characters that had entered his life just served to make him antsy for a brief respite. Al cast a quick Tempus to check the time and found that the window for visits had officially opened. He grinned and quickly made his way down towards the school entrance.

He was extremely pleased to note that he didn't run into any of his family members on the way down. They had apparently gone ahead, sensing his recent desire for isolation. That suited Al perfectly. Now he didn't have to waste precious hours convincing them that he wasn't doing anything out of the ordinary.

Al made it to the edge of Hogsmeade's borders with efficiency that came with practice. He had utilized the secret pasageways mentioned in the Maurader's Map (stolen from his brother, of course) and he always made it to his destination point with nobody the wiser.

Al pulled his wand out after checking the area with a spell and placed a glamour on himself to reveal the face of Luke Ryan.

~0~

Luke neatly Transfigured his robes into a set suitable for a wealthy scion. It just wouldn't do to walk into Knockturn Alley after months of absence dressed in rags. He straightened his collar for good measure before extending his wand out into the street.

A brief second and a blast later, the Knight Bus came to a stop for the next passenger.

Luke made a mix between a grimace and a grin to himself as he remembered the first time he had called the bus. Al had always heard about the unseen vehicle from his elder family members but he had never found the chance to actually test out whether it existed or not. Luke had no restrictions and therefore he had pleasure of taking a treacherous trip in the famed Knight Bus. Sometimes he considered paying for safety features after unboarding disoriented more than he cared to admit.

The very first time Luke had came face to face with the aging face of Stan Shunpike and the withered head of Ernie Prang, he had asked, "How come the Muggles don't hear the bus?" *****

Stan had only snorted and replied, "Them! Don' listen properly, do they? Don' look properly either. Never notice nuffink, they don'." *****

In other words, the bus was a health hazard on wheels moving too quickly for anybody to even notice. That hadn't exactly put Luke at ease but he had limited options in terms of his transportation choices.

"Comin' aboard 'gain, Luke?" Stan inquired from his precarious position on the edge.

Luke sneered. "No, I waved for you just for the fun of seeing whether Ernie would finally make a mistake and run me over before stopping."

Stan tilted his head and said, "Well, if ya wanted to tes' it out ya coulda' just tol' us."

Luke rolled his eyes and brushed his way inside. The bus was as haphazard as usual and the seats were still unbolted. Luke sighed and settled into one semi-secure position towards the back of the bus where the seats seemed least congested. Hopefully, it meant that particular corner was collision free.

He swiftly cast a Sticking Charm to the bottom of his feet and hands before gripping the side rails Stan had recently put in "for safety". Luke had tried to cast a Sticking Charm on the seat itself in the past but, for some reason, the charm never maintained itself for any longer than one minute. He had a sneaking suspicion Stan or Ernie had made it that way.

"Where ya goin'?"

Luke glanced up once again at Stan just as the bus lurched forward with another blast. He grit his teeth as the Sticking Charm did its work on his feet and hands while the elder conductor calmly stood leaning against the side of the vehicle seemingly unaffected.

"Same place. Knockturn."

"Alrigh'," Stan nodded and he opened his mouth for another question.

"No, I won't be having any hot chocolate or toothbrush."

The conductor seemed a little put off by that and he quickly slunk away to harrass any other unfortunate witch, wizard, or squib aboard.

Luke let out a breath of relief. The bus was already detrimental enough to his health without Stan's insistent mutterings to add on.

The bus went roaring towards London and Luke couldn't help but wonder why Hogwarts students just didn't take the Knight Bus to school. It was much faster than the Hogwarts Express despite its reckless manner of travel and it cost no money. Given, the bus was rather small for an entire population of students but that was something miniscule when you had magic to fix it. And how did the bus know when you called for it? Luke hadn't been positive that it would arrive for him the first time he tried it just because Hogwarts was in Scotland while all the stories he had heard only mentioned the bus's business in England. Maybe it was a sort of locating spell.

Luke didn't have much time to think about it before the Knight Bus slammed to a stop in the heart of Muggle London.

"You're all gonna hafta get off 'ere," Stan said from the second story. "Jus' got news tha' Diagon and Knockturn are closed fer fixin'."

One of the witches on the second floor shrieked, "Fixing? For what? Since when has Diagon Alley needed fixing? I need to get my nephew his present today! He's going to throw a fit!"

Stan shrugged. "I dun' know ma'am. Jus' is."

Luke frowned. Since when did the Alleys close, indeed. What had happened? Something big probably. He had never heard of such a thing happening before. His curiosity about the situation quickly evaporated into frustration. He needed several more books on Advanced Defense Against the Dark Arts, wandless magic, and maybe even some Darker books that could probably be found in Borgin and Burkes. He had also contemplated beginning Arithmancy and Runes on his own but that was clearly now out the window until the next Hogsmeade trip.

Luke supposed that he could survive another few months without any extra books. Perhaps it just meant another trip to the Restricted Section on Al's part. He sighed at the thought but ended the Sticking spell and clambered down the bus and into Muggle society.

Luke hadn't planned on visiting non-magical London this time around but it couldn't help to peruse the area. He could look at the latest styles and try not to faint or check out the latest fads. It didn't hurt to keep up with Muggle trend sometimes. It was funny at the very least.

The city was as busy as ever. Everywhere he looked somebody was rushing to and fro. It was very much like Diagon Alley a few days before the school year began. The only differences were the clothes and the stores in general. Luke was pretty sure he would not come across a store selling broomsticks or messenger owls in a Muggle shopping complex.

He had made sure to Transfigure his clothes before exiting the bus. Luke had always found the Muggle style of jeans a little too tight for his tastes but he otherwise liked the comfortable shoes and casual tops.

The crowd and long since separated the group fresh off the Knight Bus and Luke found himself swept along towards the southern end of the River Thames where the London Eye was spinning merrily. It had been a rather long walk and he finally managed to suction himself away from the throng of bodies just in time to end up close to the famous ferris wheel. Luke had never taken the time to ride the Eye. He had always seen it from afar but found no use in riding it. Now that his plans had been disrupted and his time free, Luke supposed that it couldn't hurt to try it just this once.

The line was relatively short. It was a weekday and few had the free time to actually enjoy the local pleasantry. Luke found himself at the front of the line in a matter of minutes paying the ten pounds needed to enter.

He waited until the last pod was filled to get one of his own. The idea of silence and some time to himself seemed appealing. The next pod came, opening with a small hiss after a few slow moments. Luke stepped inside and waited until the doors began to close. He felt content securing a pod of his own only to suddenly see a form bolting inside just before the doors closed.

The first thing Luke felt was a flash of irritation. "Couldn't wait for the next one?"

The person who had made the mad dash was about Luke's age. He was slightly taller and perhaps a year older but no more. He was slim and his limbs were thin but strong. All he wore was a sleeveless sweatshirt and shorts held up by a queer metallic belt. His boots were white but stained a little around the edges after his running. Luke would have dismissed him for just an average Muggle teenager had it not been for the boy's shockingly white hair and piercing emerald eyes. Maybe this was what a lot of people felt like when they looked into Al's gaze.

Something about the boy seemed off after Luke took notice. The boy seemed, for all the world, completely at ease despite his sprint but Luke's magic could taste the other's tense caution. Every muscle in his body was taut and there was alertness and wariness to the green eyes that held a degree of haunted certainty.

What really set it all off was the small trace of magic lingering on Luke's fellow passenger. The boy was a Muggle for sure so why was there magic on him? It made Luke wary and he quickly masked his own magical aura just in case.

"This seemed like a pretty empty one," the other replied. "Normally it's really crowded and I take the chance when it comes."

Luke was pretty sure the boy was lying but he rarely visited the London Eye for fun so he couldn't know for sure. "Seemed like you were in a hurry."

"Who isn't nowadays?"

"Most aren't in a rush when trying to get an a ferris wheel."

The other latched his piercing eyes onto Luke's own and analyzed him for a long minute. Luke held his gaze and stood his ground. He knew that any sign of weakness would probably reveal unnecessary information and that was something he couldn't afford when he was supposed to be at Hogsmeade.

Finally, the emerald eyes broke the staring competition and settled back on to an obscure part of the scenery outside the glass.

Luke didn't know what prompted him to ask, but something about this one Muggle set off his interest alarms. "What's your name?"

"Why? What's yours?"

There was a flash of silence. "I'm Luke."

The boy's eyes flickered but no reply seemed to be coming. Luke was fine with that. He hadn't really expected a reply in the first place. They stood in companionable silence for the entire round, soaking in the rare tranquility and strange understanding between themselves. It was strange for Luke to find somebody he actually tolerated without due proof but this single person just seemed to be the exception to that.

Luke left London behind without ever learning the boy's name.

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><p><strong>Wow, I updated pretty quickly this time :) I felt oddly unsatisfied today so I just went for it. <strong>

***These are quotes from the Harry Potter novels. I didn't create or own them.**

**No, Luke won't be a large part of the story. Al just needed some sort of persona to go to during his trips. **

**And who's the mysterious boy? Guess...**


	12. First Contact

**I do not own Harry Potter.**

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><p>Halloween was a time for scares, ghost stories, and lots of candy - according to the Gryffindor House. To the Hufflepuffs, it meant a consistent looking-over-your-shoulder-to-make-sure-you're-safe period. To the Ravenclaws, it meant more disruptions during their studying time in the library or elsewhere. To the majority of Hogwarts, Halloween was just another excuse to stuff your face with sweets and take some time off.<p>

But the Slytherins saw Halloween as something much more than just a holiday or inconvenience. To them, the day was much more delicate and sacred. None of them dared to even call the day "Halloween" because to say so meant ignorance and ignorance as something Slytherins looked down upon. Even the almost non-existent population of Halfbloods or Muggleborns knew better than to call the last day of October "Halloween".

To the Slytherins, All Hallow's Eve was Samhain.

Samhain was the most magical night of the entire year. It was Beltane's dark twin and began as the sun disappeared and night reigned. It was a night of power – a night when the Veil separating the Living and the Dead was at its thinnest. While Beltane brought celebration of Life, Samhain brought celebration of Death. It brought summer to winter, an end to a season filled with vibrance, yet it also brought the New Year according to the Celtics. Samhain was when prophecies were most potent and scrying was at its most powerful. It was when connection with faeries or other fantastical creatures, good and bad, were at its most open. It was the beginning of the Dark Half of the year.

But more than anything, it was the single day where Dark Magic ruled supreme.

Maybe that was why so many people saw it as a terrifying or foreboding. They feared Dark Magic, repelled it. And in doing so, they feared and repelled the great celebration of Samhain. Many welcomed Beltane because that was the beginning of the Light Part of the year and was the coming of Life. That was the day when Light Magic ruled. But when it came to the darker Samhain, people either saw it as a threat and danger or turned turned away from the darker nature by treating it as a silly day for dressing up and getting free sweets.

Yet Samhain was necessary to the working of the world. It was Beltane's twin and counterbalance. One could not exist without the other. Light could not exist without Dark. The magical world and even the Muggle world had once understood this and honored both equally. But as time passed, the Light became more dominant and the Darker line of magic dwindled along with the importance of Samhain.

The Dark families of the Wizarding World coveted this day and the Light knew it. That was why none of the students had been allowed home for All Hallow's Eve for many decades. Only recently had the option of returning home for the holiday become active again.

Al found it ironic that it was the Light's Savior was the one who had pushed for the option. His father had been undeniably Light yet he had been the one to bring up the subject before he had died. As Al stood in the dormitories getting ready for Malfoy's "party", he couldn't help but feel a wave of pride in his father's actions. His father hadn't been prejudiced like the rest of the Light and Neutrals had been taught to be. He had had his own way of seeing the world and he had been determined to see fairness in all aspects of society, even if it encouraged Dark magic.

Al smoothly pulled on a dress shirt and pants. Expensive robes made for high society gatherings lay spread-eagled on his bed and black dragonhide boots stood waiting for him at the foot of his trunk. He had already tempered his hair for the occasion and his wand holster was securely fastened around his right wrist – just in case. It was at times like this that Al was glad to be part of a wealthy family, even a Light one. Few had the ancient family savings still intact but the Potters were one of them. It made buying expensive robes behind his family's back something rather trivial. Ever since his father had died, nobody had truly found the time to check on the bank accounts at Gringotts. Only Al's occasional visit to the bank during his Hogsmeade trips ever stirred the Potter vaults anymore. He felt no guilt in taking what he needed. After all, he was his father's son and rightfully a Potter in name.

The true challenge was to get changed and escape to the Malfoy Manor through the Gryffindor fireplace. Al knew that the school had wards around the fireplaces to keep students from Flooing wherever they pleased, but he had long since found a way around it by innocently tricking the Headmistress into giving him permission without her ever realizing it. All it took was a question about the Floo Network rules, a curiousity about the exact wording she would have to say to allow a student free access, and he was home free. No, the real difficulty would be to avoid any Gryffindor sightings. They would surely wonder why a Potter was dressed in formal robes, ready to leave campus illegally.

Al hated to be late to anything, but he knew that he would have no choice in this case. The longer he waited, the more likely the Gryffindors would be down in the Great Hall stuffing their faces and the less likely they would spot him.

Scorpius had told him the party would begin at seven thirty. Al cast a quick Tempus to find that it was currently eight fifteen. He winced before quickly pulling on the rest of his attire. That had to be enough time. No Gryffindor liked to linger when the real business was elsewhere.

At the last moment, Al realized that he had almost forgotten the gift he had bought to thank the Malfoy Family for inviting him. Given, Scorpius had been the one to ask him but he didn't want to come across rudely. To them, he would just be another Light Wizard and he wanted to come off as the most well-mannered Light Wizard they would ever meet.

Al hesitated for a fraction of a second as he stepped out of the rooms with an emerald paper-wrapped gift in his hands. He knew that there was the very real risk of his family's discovering this. Anybody could recognize him and not all of them would keep their mouths shut. Some of it would leak. If Al had been a Dark Wizard, anything regarding him would have remained in secrecy. But he was a Light Wizard and almost any Dark Family would be more than happy to speak openly about his wayward actions of attending a Samhain celebration. This was almost a stupid move on his part. Alright, he would admit it. It _was_ a stupid move on his part. Did he want to lose almost everything he had worked for his entire life?

Al bit his lip and suddenly the back of his skull began to throb painfully. If he had known any better, he would been able to link the feeling to intoxication. But Al had never touched alcohol in his life and therefore thought it a strange headache.

The pain had begun that morning. The very second Al had opened his eyes, the throbbing had pounded in the back of his head and he had initally tried to work his way around it. But every time he tried to read a book or hold a conversation with anybody, the throbbing would become too distracting and painful for him to even think clearly. It had finally calmed down after he cast a few spells in his classes and now it was back.

Al moaned and rubbed his forehead. It wasn't smart at all to enter a nest of vipers with his head muddled like this and a high chance of risk. Yet something was pushing him to move forward. Al couldn't expain it, but he knew it had something to do with his morbid fascination with the Dark. He knew he was beginning to reach the end of his tolerance. Without any contact with Professor Snape for more Dark books and having lost the chance of buying any more during the last Hogsmeade trip, Al had begun to slowly unravel. He had been going downhill ever since his outburst in front of his brother and cousins. They were small things, but anybody watching him would have noticed. His only saving grace had been the fact that the majority of students had been avoiding him lately because of his (rightful) anger. But even that was beginning to wane and Al knew that he had to have some sort of control by then. Al felt like an addict and it made him feel _dirty_. He hated any sort of dependence on anything, yet here he was acting like somebody on withdrawal.

Al needed this. He needed some sort of contact with Dark Magic. He craved it and what good was willpower when the lure of Samhain was unrelenting?

The throbbing pulsed painfully.

Al groaned and made his way down into the Common Room. He hastily blew out the fire already blazing in the pit, stood in the fireplace, and pulled out a pouch of Floo Powder. He took a deep breath while securing the present underneath his left arm before releasing the powder and clearly enunciating, "Malfoy Manor!"

~0~

Severus sighed impatiently as the grandfather clock struck eight thirty. Samhain was wearing on yet they had not even begun the annual ritual yet. What was the good in standing around in fancy clothes and feigning interest in each other's lives? They had long since finished supper and almost all of the children present were beginning to get antsy.

Scorpius, especially, seemed more agitated than the rest. In fact, he had been that way since the gather had begun. The young Malfoy heir would glance about the room and wander aimlessly as if he had been searching for something…or somebody. Only Draco's stern reminder of rightful etiquette brought Scorpius's pacing to a stop. Severus couldn't help but notice how the young Slytherin's eyes continued to dart about the room and how his fingers tangled themselves in a substitute for his feet. The boy was clearly worried over something and it peaked Severus's curiosity as to what exactly could make a Malfoy so undignified on the most important night of the entire year. The child had never been this twitchy in public before.

Severus's thoughts were interrupted as the main fireplace roared to life. The green flames signalled an incoming guest and the Potions Master couldn't help but wonder who would have the audacity to come so late. He thought any possible Dark witch or wizard had already arrived. Severus had kept a tab on everybody and he couldn't fathom who else Draco might have invited.

Severus felt his heart jump to his throat as he saw the thin body appear.

_No. Surely not. _

The ex-spy noticed the expensive robes and the elegant gift tucked beneath the left arm before raven locks came into view.

_It's not possible. He couldn't be here. _

Then the fire abated painfully slowly to reveal the emerald eyes Severus had known so well throughout his life and he knew, without a doubt, that Albus Severus Potter had somehow gotten himself invited to the Darkest celebration of the entire year.

If only the boy could look at himself now. Anybody who didn't know his heritage would have thought him a Dark child. He stood in the fireplace, making it look to all the world as if he were standing on a gold platform. His posture was assured and arrogant yet not openly insulting. He somehow managed to look down upon everybody in the room despite his smaller size. His robes held no trace of Gryffindor loyalty, trimmed only with the exact same shade as his eyes. His lips were curled into an ever-so-slight sneer and his skin seemed to have an ethereal glow in the low lighting. Severus felt a shiver run down his spine and he was painfully reminded that Albus was somebody who was destined to be great.

"I demand to know the meaning of this."

Albus calmly turned to look at the current head of the Malfoy household. He lifted one eyebrow in question and asked, "The meaning of what, sir? I thought I had the pleasure of being invited into your home tonight."

"I never extended such an invitation to you," Draco said with cold clarity.

A humorless smile graced Albus's lips. "Perhaps you did not. But your son did."

Severus turned to look at Scorpius. The young boy had gone a deathly white but he quickly managed to say, "Father, I invited Albus because he is my new Potions partner for the NEWT advancement. Surely you remember allowing me to invite my Potions partner?"

Draco's eyes had turned to steel. "I do recall allowing you to invite your Potions partner, but you failed to mention that your partner was…Albus Potter." Scorpius winced and Draco's expression softened a tiny degree. "No matter. It appears that my son has, indeed, extended out hospitality to you. I welcome you into our home upon that case."

Albus smiled, this time with a small amount of sincerity. "I must give you my thanks. It is quite gracious of you to accept my presence here when you so clearly did not know of it. I hope that my small gift shall quell the greviousness of the misunderstanding to a degree." The Gryffindor handed the package to the Malfoy patriarch and patiently waited as the other delicately took the offering of peace. What else could the gift truly be?

Draco had been raised too well to openly check the package for any sort of trap. It just wouldn't do to show such blantent distrust. Subtlety was the name of the game and anybody who broke the rules were nothing more than pieces of trash. The Malfoy Lord had no choice but to accept the gift and test it later.

"My thanks for you consideration."

"It is my pleasure," Albus wanly smiled. "But I'm afraid I don't know your family's tastes very well. I only recently had the joy of understanding your son and I had few inclinations towards your preferences. Could you please inform me whether my gift is suitable? I hope you will answer me truthfully, no matter the degree of harsh reality."

That had been clever. Not only did Albus make himself look both generous and humble to a suitable extent, but he had also placed Draco in a corner. He had to open the gift now. Albus had wanted feedback and he had given a suitable justification. Draco couldn't give feedback later because all students had to return to Hogwarts by the end of the evening and it wasn't right to send an answer through owl when the boy had explicitly asked for a direct answer.

Draco paused for the smallest of moments before he curtly nodded his head once in acknowledgement. He undid the black ribbon, the small rustle of the soft material echoing through the silent room. Everybody was wondering what the child of the Light could have possibly gotten one of the most prominent Dark Wizard. Many, Severus knew, suspected deception and eagerly waited for a chance and reason to lash out at the Gryffindor. Yet they were also holding back far more than they would have had it been anybody else. Severus knew they sensed the boy's innate Darkness at a subconscious level and that was what kept them at bay for the moment.

Scorpius watched in fascination as his father slowly lifted the lid of the green box and peered inside. For a small, breathless moment, everything and everybody froze.

Draco reached in an pulled out a beautiful necklace. It was obviously not meant for Draco himself, but rather for an expensive artifact for the Malfoys to claim right to. It would have been stunning and breathtaking had it not been a necklace both Severus and Draco blatantly remembered.

It was the opal necklace Draco had used to try to curse Dumbledore during his Sixth Year.

Draco seemed on the verge of losing his composure and Severus could almost hear the accusation on his godson's lips. But they both knew that there was no way Albus could possibly know that this was the specific necklace Draco had used. There was no way that a child born eight years after the fall of the Dark Lord could possibly know something like that. Nobody but Harry Potter had ever handled that necklace and scrutinized it to the same degree and Harry Potter was dead.

But it still made all the color drain from Draco's face.

"It is a cursed necklace," Albus murmured. "But I altered the curse to affect anybody but those of the direct Malfoy line. In creating a specific Family tie to the artifact, I was also able to increase the curse's affect on all others ten times more potent. I hope you…will never find need to use it." As the Gryffindor finished his explanation, Severus noticed how he subtly flicked his eyes upward to glance at the Malfoy patriarch's pale expression and he could spot the tiniest smirk curve the boy's lips upward. It was so infinitesimal a change that Severus knew only he noticed it.

It almost scared him to think that maybe – just maybe – Albus might have known about the truth of the opal necklace and used it to his advantage. By giving Draco the necklace, it would destroy his sense of control over Albus for any encounter to come and it told everybody that he was capable. Even if they didn't know the truth, they could still recognize that it was no small feat to alter an age-old curse.

"It is a fine gift," Draco finally managed to strangle past his throat. "Thank you."

"Once again, sir, it is my pleasure."

~0~

"That was bloody brilliant of you," Scorpius grinned at Al.

Al couldn't help but grin back despite the growing pain in the back of his head. "I almost had to give your family a gift. I knew I was coming late and I couldn't just arrive without any sort of placating device." It woudn't do to tell Scorpius that he had planned on giving Mr. Malfoy the opal necklace regardless. He knew the necklace was one that the Head of Malfoy House had used against the previous headmaster and he found a strange, almost sadistic, pleasure in bringing back bad memories.

He hadn't been thinking straight lately. Damn headache.

But it didn't matter now. What was done was done and Al had a sinking feeling that he would probably regret doing that sometime in the near future.

Scorpius had managed to get his thrill in check and calmly said, "Thanks for coming. I almost thought you weren't going to make it."

Al smiled a little at that too. Maybe this was what it felt like to have somebody actually intelligent to talk to for once. "I don't go back on my word. I was going to come."

Scorpius nodded. "I know. I always knew. I said I _almost_ thought you weren't going to make it."

Al actually laughed at that and then he asked, "So what exactly do you actually do on your All Hallow's Eve parties? Talk and eat?"

The Slytherin was suddenly devoid of humor. "No. Never. This is all just for looks. The real thing starts soon."

"The real thing?"

Scorpius seemed a little uncomfortable. "Look, I know you're…Light…" Al frowned. He noticed the small lingering note of doubt in the other boy's statement and filed that away for future reference. "But what we're going to do tonight…well…you don't have to attend if you don't want to…"

"What is it, Scorpius? Stop beating around the bush."

"That was about as Gryffindor as you could possibly sound."

Al glared and pushed, "Really, Scorpius. Just say what you have to say or I'm going to talk to somebody who actually knows how to hold a conversation."

"Alright, alright! I just wanted to let you know that we're going to be conducting a ritual tonight. In honor of Samhain. It's a…Dark ritual so I'll understand if you want to sit it out."

Al actually cried out a little as the pain briefly spiked in the back of his skull. Scorpius jolted on the spot but his upbringing kept him calm as he pressed a cool palm to Al's forehead.

"Are you okay? Did you hit your head or something?"

Al grit his teeth and felt his stomach sinking as the pain didn't back down as it normally did after a strong pulse. He briefly considered telling Scorpius about his headache but decided against it. The last thing he needed was to look weak in a field littered with hidden landmines.

"It's okay," Al smiled thinly. "It was nothing."

Scorpius frowned but didn't push. Over the past few weeks, he had learned that whatever Al was going to tell him was all he was going to get out of him. "Just let me know if something comes up again."

Al nodded noncommittedly and silently cursed his bad luck. Of all the days to have his mind in a haze. The two boys walked side by side around the crowded room for a few quiet moments before a rather unwelcoming figure blocked their way.

Al sighed and asked, "What do you want, Parkinson?"

The older boy sneered. "Still pining over your filthy father?"

Al struggled to keep his face apathetic and felt a strange rush of gratitude. Professor Snape hadn't been lying when he had said only his siblings and Professor Longbottom knew about his accident with the stairs. If Parkinson had known about it, the brute would most likely be taunting him about it. Now the idiot had one less thing to hang over Al's head.

Not that it made insulting father any more forgivable.

"Still trying to lift your rather _large_ bulk without tripping?" Al smirked. Parkinson had always been on the heavier side and the burst of puberty he had been going through only increased his enormous appetite.

"Better than weeping over dead freaks."

Al felt a flash of murderous hatred. The unrelenting pain in the back of his head did nothing to placate it. "Look, tonight I'm just here as _Scorpius's_ guest and that's that. You should just leave it be for now. I was specifically invited." Al knew that the bully couldn't lift a finger against him. He was another's guest and to hurt him was to hurt and insult the people who had invited him. Parkinson might have been one of the dullest of the generation but even he knew what it meant to challenge the Malfoy Family.

"You heard the Gryffindor," a voice snapped from the side. "Get your fat ass somewhere else. You wouldn't want to run the risk of accidentally flattening somebody when you move."

Al glanced over and saw Hadrian Pucey striding over with comtempt written all over his face. The Pucey Family had only recently gotten themselves a larger role in society. Hadrian's father, Adrian, had been a Chaser on the Slytherin Quidditch Team and earned himself a spot as one of the top players in the world. From there, he had won the heart of Girselda Marchbank's daughter and married his way into the Wizengamot. Now the Pucey name was well known throughout the Ministry and they swam in wealth. It was a large feat, even one who had been born into the lower positions in the higher ranks of society. Adrian Pucey had grown up well-to-do and thought himself suitable as a member of Slytherin. Only a few weeks in school had taught him what it was supposed to mean when one said "Pureblood". It made Adrian feel low and silently burn for the desire to stand just as tall as a Malfoy.

Needless to say, Hadrian had grown up learning only from the best in order to satisfy his father's need for justification. Al was actually surprised to hear the Pucey heir defend him when his father was so vehemently Dark.

Parkinson glared at Hadrian but he knew that he could not stand alone with two powerful heirs to the Dark. The bully snarled under his breath and disappeared into the crowd.

Hadrian came to a stop in front of Scorpius and Al before giving both of them a brilliant smile. "Pleasure to see you again, Scorpius. And a nice surprise to see you, Potter."

Al noticed how the other boy didn't say his first name. "It was actually a surprise on my part as well to receive such a kind invitation." Al gave his own winning smile. "I think it an honor to be here."

Hadrian nodded as if affirming something and held out a hand. "How rude of me. I must introduce myself. I am Hadrian Desden Pucey, heir to the Pucey Household."

"I've seen you around Hogwarts," Al replied. "And I'm sure you are aware of who I am."

The Pucey heir nodded. "It was difficult to miss your…entrance."

Al was curious as to why Hadrian was suddenly speaking to him. In all of their four years they had seen each other enough. Even if Al had been invited to the party, the other boy had no obligation to walk up and start a conversation. The rest of the Dark children present certainly didn't bother. So what was Hadrian's motive?

"Will you be attending the ritual tonight?"

Scorpius looked sharply at his fellow Slytherin and smoothly put in, "Albus has yet to decide. I was just inquiring him about it, actually, before that poor excuse for a Slytherin interrupted us."

It made Al feel a little content that Scorpius hadn't mentioned his headache. "Actually, I think I –"

A blinding pain blocked any further thought from Al's mind. He had managed to ignore the pain but the sudden impact made it feel like a gigantic spike had decided to run itself into his skull. Red splotches covered his vision and Al felt himself go weak at the knees.

All he could comprehend for a few moments was just the agonizing pounding in his head. All of the conversation and noises in the room seemed to throb in tempo with his pain and it made his anguish increase with every second that passed. Only after he managed to gain a miniscule amound of control over himself did he finally hear both Hadrian's tremblingly calm tone and Scorpius's agitated voice.

"Potter, look at me. Look at me. I need to see what's hurting you."

"Albus…Albus! Can you hear us? What's wrong?"

Al bit back a moan and he managed to mumble, "Bathroom." He saw Scorpius move to help him in his peripheral vision and grated out, "No. I'm…fine…I'll go on my own." Al cracked open an eye to see that some of the guests around him were finally beginning to notice his weakness. He had to get away from this. He had to get away from people and get ahold of himself before anything else.

"You're not fit to go on your own. You need to see a Healer," Hadrian insisted. Whether the small note of concern was sincere or not, Al couldn't tell with half of his head threatening to implode.

"No. I'll go on my own. Stay. Here." The words had come out with a hint of threat and the other two Slytherins backed down. Hadrian did so more quickly. He barely knew Al and wouldn't insist if it meant any percentage of harm to himself. Scorpius seemed to be indecisive but his instinct ultimately won over and he nodded stiffly.

"It's out the door and up the stairs to your right."

Al could only flick his fingers in affirmation before stumbling out. He tried to keep his composure until he safely closed the doors behind him and he was alone.

Only when he was completely convinced there was nobody to see his vulnerability did he finally drop his mask.

The agony flooded his senses and he collapsed to his knees on the frigid marble floor. His heavy pants were audible in the stillness and he dug his nails into his scalp. It was just so _hot_. The pounding had progressed to the forefront of his skull and he whimpered as it increased its intensity yet again. Al shoved his forehead to the cool floor in an effort to calm the pain but it did little. What was wrong with him? He hadn't eaten anything out of the ordinary lately and he had been getting plenty of sleep. He hadn't felt ill before this and he hadn't injured his head in any way. What was it? Was it his dabbling in Dark magic? It couldn't be. He hadn't actually attempted to cast a Dark spell yet. He had never heard of somebody digressing just because they were _thinking_ about Dark magic.

Any more contemplation was wiped out in another spike of agony. Al cried aloud and he felt tears beginning to collect in the corners of his eyes. He had heard and read about the Cruciatus Curse but he doubted it could be worse than what he was going through now. The pain just wouldn't _stop_ and Al felt fear and panic collect in his chest. What if it never stopped? He would surely go insane from the agony.

Al could feel his magic beginning to leak out of its own accord in an attempt to fix whatever was disturbing its container. But the magic did nothing to smooth out the pain; it actually increased it. Al yelled in anguish but he couldn't get a handle on his magic. He was beginning to feel incoherent from the relentless pain. The magic, without a hold on it, continued to try to heal the source of distress. Al writhed on the floor and he actually contemplated going back inside and begging for some sort of Healer – anything just to stop the agony.

His magic had begun to spread outward from his body because of the sheer amount being released in the attempt to heal. Al felt his visioning beginning to turn black when a tendril of his magic tasted something…sweet.

That sweetness brought a drop of heavenly coolness to his body and his pain abated for a split second before it came back in force. Al gasped at the sudden release and attack before he caught ahold of his magic and desperately lashed out in an attempt to find that sweetness again.

Al couldn't stop the gurgle of relief that escaped from lips as he tasted the sweetness again and the relief that came with it. He extended a hand as if to grasp the balm to his pain and was surprised to find that his magic found even more sweetness. Al lurched forward like he was grasping at a lifeline and he dragged himself in the direction of his salvation. It didn't matter that he looked the complete opposite of his confident façade right now. It didn't matter that he looked like a common beggar pleading for any sort of nourishment. It didn't matter that somebody just might stumble upon him crawling on the floor. All that mattered right now was the sweetness and the bursts of cooling they brought to his pain.

Al followed the trail with his magic and body. He slowly made his way up several flights of stairs on his hands and knees. The further he pulled himself the more the agony lessened and the more the sweetness began to take hold of his senses. Ever so slowly, the pain gave way to addicting pleasure.

By the time he found himself in front of a foreboding black door inscribed with runes, Al was no longer intoxicated with his own suffering, but intense bliss.

He couldn't stop following the trail. In the back of his mind, Al knew that following a strange source was suspicious – especially when the source just coincidentally had the power to cure his headache while simultaneously making him dependent on its healing capacity. But he had been deprived of Dark magic for so long and this was exactly that: Dark magic. At one point during his trek to the black door, Al had recognized the sweetness for what it truly was.

Al raised trembling fingers to the door and shakily pushed. He had put hardly any effort into it, but the door automatically swung open as if it had been waiting for him. Al shivered but he couldn't stop himself as he stood up and stumbled inside.

The first thing Al noticed was the sheer amount of _power_ that overcame him as he stepped in. The absolute Darkness of it made him taste sweetness again and he felt drawn towards the center of the room.

A circle inscribed with runes, much like the door, glowed with a dim light in the pitch-black room. Al somehow knew that if he were to search in the Runes textbooks, he wouldn't be able to find these symbols. These were long lost to time.

Al stopped in the very center of the circle and shivered as coldness enveloped him and the symbols suddenly brightened. He stood in breathless silence for a long moment before it hit in.

Al couldn't describe the pure magnitude of what he felt. A sense of _knowing_ took over and he could suddenly see the entire layout of the mansion, its every point of weakness, and the wards that were so intimately tied to Draco Malfoy's being. He could see every single person and sense, even touch, their magical cores. He could tell what everybody felt, feared, and desired. He could sense every living thing – every plant, every animal, or even every spirit that wandered the Malfoy property. He could feel the thrum of magic that drugged the world and he understood it all.

But more than that, he could feel magic itself inspecting him, getting a feel for _his_ desires, fears, and thoughts. There wasn't a trace of Light in any of it and the feeling of being observed so closely by the very thing that had wormed its way into his life just a few months ago made Al feel bare and completely understood at the same time. Nobody else had ever seen him like this, without his façade pulled up or his magic restricted by his Light heritage. For the first time in his life, Al could feel his magic turn a stained black and he reveled in the bliss that came with it. He knew that Dark magic knew him. He knew that it had known him long before he had ever been born. It was what drew him here. He was meant to be born by Dark magic's will.

And that made him feel loved.

Perhaps his siblings and mother claimed to love him. Perhaps his countless cousins and relatives proclaimed their care for him. But they didn't understand. They didn't know him inside and out. It was a shallow love.

But Dark magic had always been there, hidden beneath layers. Al knew it had always been there.

It only lasted for a minute. As the feeling of bliss left Al's body, he desperately reached out with his magic to pull it back, but it just couldn't be. By the time it had completely left him, Al could only feel the disgusting rub of Light in his magic no longer stained by Darkness. His all-seeing euphoria vanished and he found himself sprawled on the floor again.

All Al could do for a long time was stare at the marble beneath his body. He could only watch and try to capture the feeling of complete joy.

It didn't work.

And all Al could do was curl in upon himself and sob at the loss.

* * *

><p><strong>It's spring break! Thank god! I could literally feel the cracks in my armor beginning to grow. <strong>

**Anyway, this chapter is one of the longer ones and I actually contemplated breaking it in two...but I thought it would just ruin the flow. **

**I'm not exactly pleased with the last scene. :l**

**And where did the random room with runes come from? Next chapter :)**


	13. Marked

**I do not own Harry Potter.**

* * *

><p>Severus had seen Albus leave the main room. How could he not, when he had been carefully watching the child? The boy might have been more than prepared for the worst, but Severus knew that one could never be too cautious. Just one small move out of place, and everybody in the hall would have been tearing him apart like wolves.<p>

He had watched as Scorpius immediately took to Albus's side after the gift-giving. Severus knew better than to linger close-by, but he had many other ways of eavesdropping. All it took was a simple listening spell tagged to Scorpius's robes and that was that. Albus, he knew, would have caught the tracking spell had he placed it upon the Gryffindor's robes. Scorpius, on the other hand, had been far too excited and distracted to pick up on anything out of the ordinary.

Severus had listened as the two boys spoke and couldn't help but feel a little pleased with their familiarity. They weren't friends, that was for sure, but they weren't enemies either. It was a far cry from Draco's own relationship with the Boy-Who-Lived. It appeared as though they were comfortable enough in each other's presence and something about that made a spark of warmth ignite in Severus's chest.

Then the boy had grunted a little in pain and Severus had thought the child had finally made a fool of himself and bumped his foot into a table leg or another. When the eavesdropping charm revealed that the pain was coming from Albus's head, something akin to concern tickled the corners of Severus's mind. He had quickly shaken off the thought. Concern? Since when had he ever felt concern for anybody since Lily? But Severus still felt that strange concern. Maybe, he thought, the worry came from a teacher's duty to make sure that his students fared well.

Even Severus knew that it was a pathetic excuse.

Still, he couldn't fathom the concern and stuck with his temporary explanation. There could be nothing else to it.

The damn concern only increased when Albus proceeded to moan in pain after his meeting with the Pucey heir. That couldn't have been normal. No headache was ever that detrimental. Severus had a strange urge to go over to the boy and offer some sort of help but he knew he couldn't. Albus was not one to appreciate pity and the other guests would be suspicious of his actions. They didn't expect any sort of emotion from him and they certainly didn't expect him to offer his sympathies to a Light child. All Severus could really do was watch as Albus exited the hall, barely keeping himself together.

Severus had actually considered following the boy when he heard Draco's distinct voice call for attention.

"My friends, this has been a lovely evening…but let us not forget why we are truly here."

A ripple of anticipation fluttered through the throng of Dark wizards and witches. Oh, they hadn't forgotten. They had only neatly set it aside for a time to allow the necessary formalities. Now the time had come to bring the true reason for their meeting back to the forefront - back to the limelight and reverence that it deserved.

"Let us proceed," Draco murmured quietly, a slight tremor of anticipation in his voice.

Severus knew why his godson had chosen this moment to begin. He had anticipated Albus's lack of interest in the Dark ritual and waited until an opportunity revealed itself. Now with the Gryffindor safely out of the room and the door neatly locked for the occasion, Light was as far away as they could get it. It almost pained Severus to think about how much Albus was missing, but he couldn't go to the boy now. The ritual had begun and there was no stopping it.

They moved as one, the crowd almost sighing with relief as the clock chimed. All of them found their place and formed a massive circle in the room with none at its center. There hadn't been anybody in the center since Voldemort's demise. Nobody had since proven themselves worthy of the title, Dark Lord.

It was just a small trickle at first, barely more than the average amount of Dark magic that normally lingered around them. Ever so slowly, the trickle became a steady flow and a steady flow quickly became an onrush of magic at its purest. Everybody soaked in the Darkness and they gradually opened their senses to the extents that the magic provided. They became aware of each other, breathing in unison and feeling the pulse of each other's magical cores. They saw into each other and a rare wave of understanding overcame them all. Tonight was the night that rendered their secrets open for all to see and accept. Even the most gruesome or embarrassing thoughts and memories were laid out to see and absorb. Nobody was hesitant. The magic left them feeling flushed with power over themselves and each other. It was in the moment that they truly saw each other and reconnected after a year. It was, perhaps, the only thing that had kept them from turning on each other over the generations. Dark witches and wizards were far too cunning and self-deserving to not distrust. This ritual of linking their magic through a common Dark thread left them completely open to each other and trust was restored. This was the one thing that kept them united under the Light's fierce scrutiny.

As much as Severus reveled in the sheer power that came with the ritual, he knew he couldn't reveal _all_ of his secrets. Others were not as accomplished Occlumens as he. He could shield one or two things he absolutely did not want to be discovered. There was a touch of irony that almost all of the secrets he was hiding had to do with the Potter family, the very family that had always caused him so much pain.

As time passed, the magic grew thicker and thicker until the Darkness was almost tangible in the air. Everybody glowed in it and soaked in the absolute bliss that came. Dark magic was so alluring and this ritual banished any doubts that they should be on the Dark's side. There was beauty to Darkness that only they could carry on.

Severus was quietly basking in the flow of magic alongside so many like him when a slight hitch in the air caught his attention. He pondered it for a millesecond before another rush of pure Dark magic overcame him again and any worries disappeared from his mind. Nobody else seemed to have noticed it.

When the clock finally struck the half hour, Draco pulled himself out of the blissful stupor that the magic brought and slowly walked himself to the center. He was, by no means, the most powerful or Dark here. But it was his home and it was fitting that he subsitute in the place of a true Dark Lord. He summoned a simple silver bowl without a single word or motion of his wand. He was so saturated with magic that he found no need to do so. Draco gripped the bowl and reverently placed it on the floor before extracting a ritual knife from his robes. The knife was simple, just as the bowl was, but it was a powerful one. The sacrificial blade had been passed down through the Malfoy line, gaining power as each generation progressed. He knelt beside the bowl and neatly pulled the knife across his arm in a long, shallow cut.

The entire room took a long breath in and slowly let it back out. Their magics mixed and clashed in a brief moment of fierce connection before it all channeled through the Malfoy patriarch and his blood now dripping into the bowl. The crimson liquid was Draco's contribution, but their magic attaching to his lifeblood made it all of their contribution as well.

Suddenly, that slight distrubance in the air came again, longer this time. Severus noticeably flinched as his magical rhythm was temporarily broken and several other wizards and witches winced as well. Their breathing stuttered for a few moments before their magic reconnected again and their rhythem restored. A ripple of unease permeated the room at the strange interference, but they did not voice a word. This was their revered ritual and they would not break the spell that Dark magic only allowed once a year. It curled around them, caressed them, and breathed softly into their ear whispering promises, threats, and comforts all at the same time. Draco had been careful not to flinch himself and the ritual hadn't been collectively disturbed. The bowl was sufficiently filled before Draco quietly stood up and the Dark magic healed his wound without a sound or breath.

They waited as they felt the magic thicken ever more so and gather towards the offering at the center. Some of the younger wizards and witches couldn't suppress the shiver of delight as the pleasure of Dark magic reached its zenith. All of their pupils dilated in anticipation of the true climax that the Dark always promised and their breathing accelerated ever faster until they were almost all leaning towards the middle, begging for the magic to accept the offering. Their magic spiked and their hearts beat as one, thudding in their chests faster and faster. The magic was becoming stronger, stronger – overwelming almost. A thrum emerged in the air and the magic pulsed in time with their breaths, their hearts, and their cores. Faster, faster, faster. Ever faster and the anticipation just building, the Dark magic now spilling rolling over their skin in excess. Just a bit more – just a bit more until the Dark was pleased and their magic would –

Then it all came to a screeching halt and the intoxicating thrill of Dark magic withdrew and disappeared in a single breath. The bowl, their offering, lie untouched.

The room was completely still. Nobody dared to breathe. Nobody dared to raise their eyes and face the truth. Nobody moved. There was something horrifyingly terrifying about the eerie silence and complete lack of magic in the air.

It had never happened before. They were the only organization of Dark wizards and witches left in the world. Dark magic had no other followers to satiate its appetite for attention on its sacred night. If it had not been satisfied with their offering, then they must have done something horribly wrong to displease the Dark magic. They hadn't been strong enough for it. Dark magic was drawn to power – its own power. If they were the only group of Dark wizards left in the world, where else did the magic had to go? Had it…left them?

Nobody dared to voice the question. They were far too entrenched and entranced by the magic to even consider it. Without Dark magic, all of them would be mad and clawing at each other's throats in a year at most. All of them might go insane at best.

They waited. For how long, Severus didn't know. All he knew was that every, even he who was forever independent of anything, was suddenly begging for the magic's return. Silently begging. They called out to it with their magic. They tried to reach the same unison that had drawn it in. They all stood stock still within the large circle, waiting for something to happen and for their offering to be accepted.

Nothing happened.

It was like a crushing blow to them all when Astoria, Draco's wife, quietly murmured, "Draco…I think it is time to close our celebration." Her voice, so loud in the silence, cracked a little at the last word. They all understood what she had meant. The Dark wasn't coming back tonight and it would just be best to accept it and move on. They could question it within their minds. They could ask why this sudden displeasure and betrayal came. But there would be no answer. Dark magic would not answer until it was satisfied.

Draco seemed to be frozen for a long moment. Only a subtle push from his wife gave him the courage to accept and move towards the center again. He hesitated as his fingers neared the bowl, giving Dark magic one last chance to take the offering. When no sign came, Draco's expression hardened and only the slight trembling of his fingers indicated how shaken he was.

He stood up with the bowl in hand and addressed the crowd. "Thank you for attending the celebration tonight. I look forward to welcoming you all back next year."

Next year. Would the magic accept them next year? If not, year after that? Or the year after that? Or many years after that? Or…

No, the idea of Dark magic's sudden departure from their lives was too terrible. They couldn't imagine it. They could only return next year and hope for a better result. The Dark would have a difficult year this time around. They hadn't completed the ritual and therefore their power had not gained the enrichment it normally did. Some would suffer pain akin to withdrawals and some of the newer members would lose it completely. Still, it was better to imagine on year without the magic's blessing rather than never again.

Once the idea of another chance at redemption registered in their minds, everybody was suddenly struck with the need to leave and cope on their own. Now was not the time to continue mingling in their political games when so many mistakes could be made after such a shock. The families dismissed themselves with apologies and before the half hour had passed, Malfoy Manor was as empty as it had been before the meeting had begun. Only Scorpius, his parents, and Severus himself remained.

Severus had gone with Draco to discard of the bowl's contents properly. They couldn't just dump it down a drain or into a nearby bush. It just wouldn't be proper with all the magic poured into it. It would almost seem blasphemous to do so.

Draco quietly walked alongside his mentor. He stared at he red liquid sloshing in its container. They were silent as they made their way down the halls. Only when they finally reached the open air of the manor's back garden did Draco finally speak.

"Severus…do you think it was my fault?"

The Potions Master glanced sharply at his godson. "What gives you that idea, Draco?"

"It was my blood…perhaps…"

"That is a silly assumption and you know it," Severus dismissed. "We've been doing this for a little over a decade now. Your blood has proven sufficient during all those years. The only question would be why it suddenly does not work anymore."

Draco bit his lip and murmured, "I thought everything would be okay. I still remember these rituals that…_he_ did. And as much as I was a-afraid of him, it was still a completely different experience. He just had so much _power_. The very first ritual that we ever convened for after his death terrified me. I didn't think I would be cut out for it. I've been mollified to a degree over the past few successes but now…I don't know."

Severus had always known that Draco wasn't completely cut to be a leader. He certainly had a demanding and charismatic air to him at times, but he had never truly loved the limelight. He had never wanted the power and control and complication that came with it. Draco had liked the attention as a young, spoiled child and that had been it. Only the Dark Lord's abuse had finally shaken him out of that mentality. The only reason why Draco was now a head of the Dark of sorts was because of his father's earlier position as the Dark Lord's close associate. Severus had known that his godson had been terrified with the prospect during the first ritual but he had no say in it. Society believed what it wanted to believe and it would have taken a lot more than a seen traitor to change their minds about it.

"Draco, today was a mere exception. That was it. I think it more all of our faults. It was all our magic that was not strong enough."

"But you had just said so yourself: it has been sufficient all these years. Why should it change now?"

The Potions Master sighed as they came to a stop just at the edge of the manor's wards. He quietly watched as Draco poured the magical blood into the ward's magic, making it more powerful. "I don't know, Draco. I don't know."

Draco was silent for a long time. Then he slowly looked up at his old professor and asked, "Did you remember seeing the Potter boy leave?"

~0~

Scorpius was disappointed. He had always been to the rituals since his eighth birthday and since his very first experience, he had known that no other magic would ever call out to him more so than Dark magic did. Its sheer magnificence and terrible beauty was too intruiging. When the magic thrummed over his own and caressed his core, it was just too much to let go. The ritual was something Scorpius had looked forward to every single year.

But this year, the Dark magic had suddenly left him with a gaping hole in his chest. Not literally, of course, but Scorpius felt a hollowness that he couldn't quite ignore. It hurt too much to ignore. There was a feeling of loss and complete abandonment that burned him from the inside out. His mother had tried to reassure him that the magic would return next year, but he wasn't so sure. They had disappointed it somehow and that hurt him more than the emptiness in his chest. What had he done wrong? Had he not given enough of his magic or his devotion?

Scorpius sighed to himself as he slowly meandered up the stairs to his room. Sometimes, but wished that his home wasn't so large. It would be nice to be able to reach his bedroom under a five minute time limit. He dragged his feet up the stairs and almost moaned at the prospect of undressing and taking a proper shower. His clothes were intricate and expensive. He needed to take them off in correct order while the many layers and knots that kept it together would take time to undo. True, he had a house elf to do the majority of the work, but just the idea of standing up was too much. He would forgo the shower tonight and take one in the morning when his chest wasn't so vacant.

He was just passing the second floor when he thought he heard a small sound. The Malfoy heir hesitated before he heard it again, louder this time. He slowly stepped off the stairs and paused, waiting for the sound to come again. This time, it came even louder and further down the hall. Who could possibly be on their second floor now? Hadn't all their guests left already? Perhaps it was an elf punishing himself.

Scorpius normally left these strange phenomenon to themsevles. Merlin knew how often strange things happened at their manor. It was over a hundred years old and magically enhanced. Something was bound to be a little out of the ordinary. But something about the noise was different than the normal odd creaks and crashes he occasionally heard. This sound was softer and sort of…muffled?

Scorpius followed the sound, pausing every few steps to listen and check his direction. When he found himself in front of a very familiar and forbidden black door, alarm bells began to go off in his mind. Scorpius was free to any room in the manor except for this one. The black doors with runes carved into the wood had always been a place that his father explicitly left to itself. When he had been old enough to understand, it had been the very first thing he had emphasized. _Never to into the room with the black doors at the end of the second floor hall. _That had left a sort of mystique and danger about the room and, of course, Scorpius had tried to go in that very night he had received the warning. The only thing he could remember was touching the door handle and waking up the next morning in a graveyard at the very outskirts of London. He had been terrified and sat bawling his eyes out for a full three hours before his parents located him. Scorpius didn't rememebr the event with much fondness and he had never gone anywhere close to the room again.

Yet here he was.

Why? For some sound? That was ridiculous. He was a Slytherin. He should know better than to stick his head into things that could be potentially life threatening.

Suddenly, the noise came again and it sounded oddly human. Scorpius had always tried to be just as cooly detached and calculating as his father, but he was still a child in many ways and he was still open to moments of odd sentimentality. He didn't know what had come over him, but one more strangled sound through the door had him gripping the doorknob and stepping inside the forbidden room.

Scorpius honestly expected to find himself dumped back in the same cemetary again. Maybe the room would dump him further away in the midst of wolves or something. What he didn't expect to see was Albus Potter curled up in the center of the room sobbing his eyes out.

It was incredibly awkward to say the least. Perhaps it was a little crass of him to think so when his classmate was obviously distressed on the floor, of all places, but he couldn't help it. He had no idea what to do in a situation like this and that was before he realized that he would have to ask Al why he was in the forbidden room in the first place.

Al hadn't noticed him enter. The Gryffindor just continued to wallow in his apparent sadness. The fact that Scorpius had never seen Al so openly weak just made the whole situation that much more surreal and strange. He contemplated escaping when had the chance and alerting his father of the situation, but his teenage mind rebelled at the thought and he mustered up the courage to speak.

"Ah…Al…um…are you…okay?" Just because Scorpius had mustered up the courage didn't mean that he was comfortable with the situation. He was mortified to hear the complete lack of eloquence spouting out of his mouth. He had purged the habit of stuttering and fumbling his speech years ago. It was embarrassing to hear his voice sound so unsure.

A choked hiccup gurgled past Al's throat and he lurched upward into a sitting position Scorpius's voice. His sobs abruptly ceased and he stared blankly at the Malfoy heir before a look of complete panic overcame his features. The panic quickly morphed into something dangerous and Scorpius found himself pinned to the hard floor with Al's wand jabbing at his throat.

"You saw _nothing_," the Gryffindor hissed. His killing emerald eyes flashed and Scorpius was harshly reminded of that strange fear that he had initially felt that fateful day above the Gryffindor common room. Al pressed his wand harder into Scorpius's throat. "You will _never_ repeat a word about this, am I clear? If you so much as breathe a _syllable, _I will make you wish you had never met me."

Threats normally did little to break Scorpius's cultured persona, but something about the pure determination and willingness to follow through with those words in Al's voice made him wary and silent. At the moment, he knew that contradicting Al meant pain at the very least. He valued himself equal or perhaps a little further ahead than the Potter in Potions, but everybody knew that they couldn't win in a fight. Scorpius knew that he wouldn't even have his wand out in time to defend himself should Al decide to attack. Everybody had seen him in the Dueling Club at least once. He rarely fought in front of a crowd, but the few times he did, he had been lethal and quick. Scorpius had no doubt that Al could follow through with his threat.

"I won't say anything," Scorpius replied. He was ashamed to admit that a small tremor had escaped through his voice.

Al scrutinized him for a moment before harshly gripping Scorpius's arm in a vice, their arms interlocked. He lifted his wand and the Slytherin watched, horrified, as the Gryffindor pressed the tip of his wand to his upper bicep. A burning sensation tore a sudden gasp from his lips and he twitched in an attempt to escape, but Al's grip was unrelenting. Had his Potions partner always been this strong? Through the pain, Scorpius suddenly noticed that there was something different about Al. He looked the same, but something about his aura was noticeably Darker. It was only a lingering scent, but Scorpius could feel it. Al had been in contact with something incredibly Dark not so long ago.

Scorpius didn't have any more time to question it as the pain stopped as quickly as it had come. Al quickly detached himself and dragged the Malfoy heir up with him. "Say anything and you'll suffer," the Gryffindor snarled. "That mark will make sure of it." Scorpius didn't have time to ask what mark before Al demanded to be led to the fireplace to leave. The Slytherin was all to eager to escort him out and Al disappeared in a flash of green fire with only one last warning glance.

It had happened too fast for Scorpius to comprehend. One moment he had been staring at a sobbing classmate only to find himself trapped, hurt, commanded, and apparently marked in the span of ten minutes. Something about the way Al had changed his mood was disturbing and his abrupt departure had left Scorpius's head spinning. He numbly walked away from the fireplace and back up the stairs before he fumbled with his bedroom door and slipped inside.

An uncontrollable tremor shook Scorpius's frame as he leaned heavily against his doors after he closed them and his breath hitched as he shakily rolled up his left sleeve where Al had pressed his wand. He was afraid to look, afraid to see, but he he had to know. He had to know what he was marked with.

The symbol was simple. A black crescent moon surrounded by half-circles of pale amethyst stood starkly against his pale skin. It seemed to ripple and shift with every breath he took as if moving in time with his hearbeats. He lifted trembling fingers to touch it and noticed how frigidly cold it was around the mark. It was oddly beautiful in a way but Scorpius understood its darker purpose all too well. It would serve as a sentry, a guard to his every word and every breath. Nothing would escape it because he couldn't remove it. Al had laid the mark and now Scorpius was sworn into secrecy. What had been so vital about that scene for the Gryffindor to go to such drastic measures? The mark wasn't Dark enough to be considered Dark magic. At most, it would probably keep him from talking when he tried to mention the subject. But something about Al's sudden insecurity and desperation had meant something, something far deeper than possible humiliation and embarressment. The second Potter was far too sensible and cautious to do this for no reason. All Scorpius had to do was figure out what reason had pushed Al into doing it.

A wave of anger clouded Scorpius's mind and frustration quickly followed. What right did Al have to impose this upon him? He had already promised not to mention it. Why did he have to mark him for Merln's sake? Now all Scorpius had were closed lips and even more questions pertaining to the mystery of Albus Potter. He knew he had been doing something stupid when he had involved himself with the Gryffindor.

Scorpius couldn't help but think of his father's own mark given by a long-dead Dark Lord as he glanced one last time at the symbol on his bicep.

* * *

><p><strong>GAH. I'm so so sorry for such a late update. I really had this idea planned out for a while, but I had a problem concerning where it was going to go after this. I'm still contemplating it but I decided to just post this in the meantime. <strong>

**About the symbol, it becomes REALLY important later...but way later. So it's not just some random thing, just keep that in mind. Al's little temperamental in this one, isn't he? Well, I would be too after whatever had happened in the previous chapter. **

** The mark on Scorpius is NOT like the Dark Mark on the Death Eaters Voldemort did. It's like Scorpius said: it's not Dark enough to be Dark magic and just a tad bit on the Grayer side of Light magic. It's only a sort of insurance to make sure the person marked stays silent and since it doesn't really inflict any pain or harm upon the marked, then it isn't dark. It's just a little Gray because it is placed against the marked's will. **

**Thanks for all the reviews so far and sorry for the late update again!**


	14. Aftermath

**I do not own Harry Potter.**

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><p>Al stumbled through the Gryffindor fireplace as he hurtled himself away from Malfoy Manor. Away from Scorpius and his accusing gray eyes. Away from the Pureblood society that suddenly seemed so stifling.<p>

Away from that sinfully delicious Dark Magic.

Al would have given anything to have remained saturated with that beauty, that Darkness. It was everything he had hoped for, dreamed for, and more. It understood him and rejoiced in him like nobody had before. It loved him and caressed his very core.

Al had never comtemplated before what it would be like to die. Not even when he was hurtling down to possible death from falling down the stairs did he even consider it. But when the Dark Magic left him, the sudden idea of Death was tangibly tantilizing.

Just how sick was he?

Al groaned and rubbed his eyes only to freeze when a familiar voice spoke.

"Having a little fun, aren't we?"

James settled fierce hazel eyes upon his younger brother and Al was suddenly struck with something he hadn't felt in a long time around family: guilt. He couldn't speak his way out of this. He couldn't explain away the expensive robes, the flickering green embers of a recently used Floo Network, and his disheveled look. Even a monkey could have figured out by now that Al had gone and done something he shouldn't have.

"What are you doing up so late?" Al evasively asked. Inside, he was cursing himself for his abrupt lack of judgement. After Scorpius had walked in on him, panic had taken over. Surely the little Slytherin would have spoken to his father about it. Then the boggart would be out the bag. Little Albus Potter, a Dark Magic addict. The traitor of his family. The disgrace to his father's name. The whole world would find out and he would be thrown into Azkaban, underage or not. The whole world was still paranoid after Voldemort's "reign".

But panic had never done Al any favors. It was one of the many things he had always refused to succumb to. Panic always ruined his thought processes and he could never afford that. He lived too many lies, held too many secrets to ever lose control of his mindset. Yet he had acted, for lack of words, completely wasted. He had gone and stormed out of the Manor with nothing less than a restrictive mark upon Scorpius's bicep binding the Slytherin into silence. He had not only earned himself a probable enemy and lost Potions partner, but he had also completely forgotten that he had missed the time restraint and came stumbling into the middle of Gryffindor Common Room at one in the morning.

Al had never felt any more stupid.

James's eyes hardened and he snapped, "Don't evade the subject, Al! I want to know what you have been doing."

"Why do you need to know?"

"I am your brother. What other reason do I need?"

And really, what other reason _did_ James need? He was Al's brother. A brother had every right to be concerned about his family's whereabouts. Al had never been one to curse. He thought it vulgar. But something about this situation struck him as the right one for such cursing.

"I was out," Al smoothly said.

"Out _where_? I won't play this game, Al. You can't hide anything from me."

At that, Al almost burst into laughter. He couldn't hide anything from James? Then what was all this? What was everything? Everything was a lie. Everything was hidden from James.

"I was down at Hogsmeade."

"Doing what? Drinking? You certainly look like you have," James scowled. "I thought better of you, Al. You have never done this before. You have never been this…outrageous!"

"So you're allowed to go about pranking and doing _outrageous_ things while I have to be a goody goody two shoes?" Al hissed back in spite of himself.

"You know what I meant. I might have pranked, yes, but sneaking out and getting myself completely _drunk_? Are you mad, Al? What do you think will happen when Headmistress McGonagall finds out?"

"_When_ she finds out?" Al gasped incredulously. "Do you know how many times I have covered your arse?"

"I would never sell you out and you know it," James snarled. "But I'm not the only one who has noticed your absence tonight. Maybe they won't know _how_ you left but they already know you left."

"Who, exactly, is 'they'?"

James tightened his lips and frowned.

"Oh, I see how it is. Surely you won't sell me out but you will do nothing to stop another from doing so. That's just lovely, brother. Just lovely."

"This isn't you!" James cried out almost in anguish. "You – you don't do this!"

"And how would you know?" Al hissed.

"Because you're my brother and I've known you for years!"

Al scowled darkly and made to brush past his elder brother. James wouldn't allow it and promptly blocked any path of escape by covering the steps towards the boys' dormitory.

"I'm not done yet."

Al almost growled at James in frustration. He wasn't in any mood for this. "Well I am," he bit out. "Now let me through!"

"Where did you go, Al?"

"I already told you!"

"But was it the truth?"

"Why would I lie about it now? You already caught me!"

"Then why? Why do it? Why do it now when, for the past four years, you've done nothing like this before?"

"Maybe I'm getting bored," Al mocked.

James's face twisted in silent pain and a pang of guilt tore through Al's chest again. He shouldn't be doing this. He shouldn't be this harsh with James. All his brother was doing was worrying as any older brother should. Was his cruel reaction a result of Dark Magic? Was the Darkness as terrible he had always been told? But surely not. He had read the books. He had seen living proof in Professor Snape that Darkness didn't always necessarily corrupt. It was the person who decided whether the magic would corrupt or not.

And that just meant that Al was being weak.

Almost immediately, Al composed himself and allowed the guilt he was feeling bleed into his features. "I'm sorry, James. I didn't mean…all of that. I suppose I'm just not happy being the smart kid who can't do much else."

A spark of relief flooded his older brother's eyes and he smiled warmly. "It's alright, Al. I guess this is what Mom and Aunt Hermione call puberty. I sure as hell was moody too. Maybe even moodier. I would actually be disturbed if you didn't act up from time to time." He playfully punched Al's shoulder. "You've just been so amazing these last four years that I guess I'm not used to seeing you act out like this. Good to know some of Grandpa's Marauder genes passed on."

Al smiled tiredly and rolled his eyes. "This won't happen again, I promise." _Or at least next time I won't get caught. _

James grinned. "I know, Al. I know." He seemed oddly serious for a moment with his lips taut and his eyes still. Then that playful smirk wormed its way back on James's face and he teased, "I won't pity you, though, when you get your punishment for this."

~0~

_Oh, Merlin._

Al woke up the next morning to find that it hadn't been a terrible dream. He was still wearing his expensive (but now wrinkled) robes just as he had been when he had collapsed into bed earlier that night.

Al moaned into the morning air.

Judging by the lack of reaction from his dorm mates, he had also woken up late and either missed only breakfast or missed his first half of classes altogether. From the way the sun seemed to hover at the center of the sky, he had probably missed lunch too.

Al moaned again and this time pulled his pillow over his head. Going to Malfoy Manor hadn't been a good idea at all. The only good thing that had come of it had been…well nothing at all, actually. He had gone to mark his place in the Pureblood hierarchy. Instead, he had marked one of the most prominent Dark Wizard's son, gotten drunk on Dark Magic, and got caught by none other than his lovely older brother. Things couldn't have been worse.

He didn't feel ready to face the world yet. Couldn't time just stop and let him have a break? He didn't want to get up and face having to play somebody who wasn't him. He didn't want to get up and face his punishment for sneaking out. He didn't want to get up and face Scorpius, mark and all. He didn't want to do anything other than wallow in his own misery.

But Al couldn't so he dragged himself out of bed and unceremoniously dumped his robes into the laundry bin for the elves to clean. Then he blearily took a slow shower before brushing his teeth and pulling on his clean Hogwarts robes. The entire process took him a lengthy hour but, once again, he didn't want to face the world quite yet.

Only after standing blankly at the top of the stairs for a good extra ten minutes did he finally pluck the energy to wander down to the Common Room and out into the hall.

A quick Tempus told Al that it was currently Potions. Perfect. Just he class he wanted to get caught walking in late for. He contemplated skipping it altogether but a glance of Mrs. Norris sniffing around the corner convinced him otherwise.

He pulled himself down to the dungeons and Al couldn't help but hum a funeral march in time with his steps. He probably looked a mess. He hadn't bothered to tame his hair and he felt like a Hippogriff had run him over ten times.

But he didn't hesitate this time before barging into the Potions classroom and promptly found himself a seat alone towards the back of the room as if he had every right to be there late. Al glanced up at the board, careful to avoid the Professor's gaze, and was relieved to see that they were brewing Gregory's Unctuous Unction. Simple enough. For him. He would be able to do it in the time left if he hurried.

But then again, Al wasn't in the best of states and the sudden explosion from his cauldron towards the end of the class proved it.

Al stared in complete shock and surprise as green goop dripped down his robes and smeared his face. This had never happened to him before. Not even Grace had fumbled so much today. Al was supposed to be the model student. He was supposed to always finish first with perfect results. He wasn't supposed to mess up. Ever.

And that fact coupled with his previous consecutive failures suddenly made him his eyes sting for the second time in all his years at Hogwarts.

"Stay behind, Potter," Professor Snape drawled. "The rest of you, class is dismissed. Place your completed samples on my desk."

Al could only numbly wipe his face off as the rest of the class left. When he glanced down at his soiled robes, he shakily pulled out his wand to clean it. He was surprised to see the mess vanish abruptly vanish of its own accord.

"If you even attempted a simple Cleaning Charm right now," said the professor, "I think you would end up blasting yourself apart out of pathetic mistake."

Al's face flushed at the comment and all of the shame and humiliation he had experienced over the last few hours came crashing down upon him.

"I don't mean to be rude, sir, but would you please _shut up_?" The words had come leaking out of his mouth against his better judgment.

Yet, the professor didn't demand him to leave like Al had anticipated.

"I know what magical withdrawal looks like," the Potions Master tiredly murmured. "Why don't we talk about this in my office?"

Al bristled. "So _now _you want to talk to me."

A hint of slight remorse tinged the professor's voice. "Why don't we talk about it in my office?"

Al shrugged and morosely followed the man inside his office. What choice did he have really? He had never felt so childish or petty before in his life.

After they settled down, the professor steepled his fingers and looked at hi student directly in the eyes. Al shivered and quickly glanced away.

"You shouldn't hide it from me," the Potions Master quietly said. It was oddly gentle. Oddly understanding. It made Al's eyes sting again.

"Hide what, sir?"

A moment of silence. "You know what I mean."

Al let out a tired and resigned sigh. Of course he knew what the man meant. The professor had been there last night. The professor knew what Dark Magic was like. He knew what it looked like when one was suddenly deprived of it.

"It was so…beautiful." Al was embarassed to hear his voice suddenly crack.

Professor Snape nodded. "I know."

Those two words, more than anything, suddenly washed away any resentment Al had felt towards the man over the last few months. Those two words, no matter how short, had suddenly meant more to Al than he ever thought two measly words could. It meant the professor understood. It meant Al wasn't alone and that despite his knowledge, the professor wouldn't speak of this unless Al wanted him to.

It all came rushing out of his mouth before he could stop himself.

"I only planned to go to get a taste. I – I didn't mean for anything else to happen. I only wanted to integrate myself, get them all to know me, that I existed. I wanted to stand in my own element for once. I wanted – I wanted to experience a place I…I thought I belonged in." God, why was he being so sappy? "I…I liked it, you know. Scaring Scorpius's father like that. I liked giving him that cursed necklace. I liked his – his _pain_. It made me feel alive. Like I no longer had to hid myself. Oh, I knew it wasn't a good idea to go. But my head just hurt so _much_ and something was just _begging _me to go. Then – then I had to leave the room and before I knew it, I was following it, following the Darkness. I don't know where, exactly, it led me but – but…oh, _Merlin_…I could _feel _it, professor. I could _taste_ it. It was everything…and nothing at the same time. It was just so _wonderful. _I – I…"

Al had to bite his lips to keep the stinging in his eyes from taking over and noticeably flinched as the professor began to speak.

"Potter…Albus…you know what we…what the Dark does during Samhain, correct?"

Al nodded, still biting his lips.

"We didn't complete it last night. We couldn't complete it. The Darkness didn't think our ritual and our power, our blood, worthy enough. It had found something far more satiable."

Despite his frayed mindset, even Al could understand where the professor was heading.

"That can't be right…the Dark…the Dark has known all of you for far longer. I can't even perform Dark Magic. Why would it…?"

"Choose you?" the professor supplied. "I don't know. I only know that it preferred you more than all of Europe's Dark Wizards and Witches combined." A wistful look overcame the Potions Master's face. "I can only imagine what it must have felt like to have all of the Dark's attention focused solely upon you."

Al hiccuped a shaky laugh. "I don't know…it didn't leave me in the best of states."

"But far better to have experienced it than to never have known, am I correct?"

Al sat quietly before sighing again and nodding.

"That," the professor said leaning back in his chair, "is why you are currently in Dark Magic withdrawal. You, who had never before experienced Dark Magic before in your life, was suddenly bombarded with a whole year's worth of Darkness only to have it disappear moments later. It's expected."

Al stopped biting his lips and glanced suspiciously upwards. "You…you aren't upset about this?"

"Oh, I'm upset that you went against school rules to sneak into a Pureblood party that consists of people who hate your family, yes. But I am not angry, per se, about your little Dark escapade. I should have seen it coming." The professor sighed. "I must apologize for that. I was afraid that I was leading you down the wrong direction, down the wrong path. I shouldn't have left you to your own devices like that. I know better now and I hope you come to me about these matters before taking any further actions like last night's."

A wry smile tugged at Al's lips and a warmth blossomed in his chest. It filled whatever hole the Darkness had left and suddenly he didn't feel so shaky or tired anymore.

"Thank you," he murmured.

The professor suddenly seemed uncomfortable and awkwardly nodded his head in acknowledgement.

They sat in companionable silence before the professor pulled open a drawer to pull out a book.

Al couldn't quite conceal his gasp of excitement as he eagerly reached out for _Sonnets of a Sorcerer_.

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><p><strong>Agh...I know this is a woefully short chapter for somebody who hasn't updated in FOREVER. I really am sorry for that! I suppose I sort of hit a block, per se, in this story despite the fact I have a lot more planned out already. I had it all plotted in my mind and suddenly I just didn't like how I was writing it. <strong>

**Just know I'm definitely not dropping this any time soon.**

**Hmmm...but yeah that's about it for this chapter and PS i didn't really edit this so any holes and whatnot...**


	15. Sprouting of Beginnings

**I do not own anything that will get me sued.**

**And thank you to Riddell Lee for inspiring me to get going on this! I've been such a slacker on this story! For those of you who haven't read her fanfic "Only a Boy" yet and you're a fan of the BBC show Merlin and Harry Potter, then GET YOUR BUTTS OVER THERE AND READ IT. It's amazing :)**

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><p>Severus glanced up from his paperwork as a hesitant knocking interrupted his train of thought. Visitors were no longer a rare occurrence for the Potions Master – not since Albus had deemed Severus' private office his sanctuary from his fellow Gryffindors. The boy had practically inhaled <em>Sonnets of a Sorcerer <em>over the span of a day and had already gone through three more tomes, each one larger than the last. Severus had never seen Albus happier. He literally walked through the halls like a gigantic ball of sickeningly cheerful sunlight.

But the boy had ceased to knock hesitantly a long time ago. Whoever was calling on him now was not Albus.

"Come in," Severus said as he marked another paper with a flurry of red ink.

Slowly, the white-blonde hair of Scorpius Malfoy peeked inside. The Potions Master raised an eyebrow at his godson but did nothing more, merely waiting for the younger to speak first.

"Unc – Professor?"

Since when did Scorpius ever call him Professor? The boy had known him far too long to revert to such a title. It was irritating but the fact that Scorpius had decided to forgo the informal title was enough to tell Severus that something was very wrong.

"Speak. I do not have all night."

Scorpius winced and tugged at his left sleeve. "I was just wondering…if you might have a few books regarding the Second Wizarding War."

Severus gave his godson a long look. "You can find over ten books on such a topic in the Hogwarts library alone. What drives you here?"

"I have read them," Scorpius hastily replied. "But none of them were…deep enough."

"Why want to research deeper? I did not know you fancied History of Magic."

The younger Slytherin tugged more insistently on his left sleeve, a habit Severus noticed the boy had recently picked up. "I – It's about my father."

"Draco? I am sure you need not refer to any book about the topic when the very source is your sire. I am sure your father would not mind answering any of your questions." And Draco wouldn't. The once-spoiled child had grown up long ago. He would know better than to take offense from his own son's questions.

Yet there was still something lingering on the very tip of Scorpius' tongue – as if he wanted to say something but couldn't.

"I – You're right. Thank you."

And the boy was out of the room before Severus could say anything more.

~0~

Al knew he should have spoken to Scorpius the very next day following Samhain. He had marked the other boy with a binding sign for Merlin's sake! But the combination of a new source of Dark knowledge and the grudging acceptance of Professor Snape had distracted him for a good few weeks already. He had learned so much in so little time and he never wanted to stop.

But now that Al looked back at it, perhaps part of his zeal stemmed from the fact that he didn't want to face Scorpius. At all.

What would the other boy say to him? What would _he_ tell Scorpius? "By the way, thanks for the invitation to your party but I have this sort of addiction to Dark magic so I freaked out when I saw you come in during my high and marked you"? Because that would go over spectacularly.

Yet he couldn't avoid the other Slytherin forever. They did have a Potions project to accomplish and Al preferred not to have a potential enemy constantly over his head.

So he had watched and waited in the halls until supper ended to face it once and for all.

Scorpius came walking around the corner with a clutter of books in his hands and a few stray pieces of parchment fluttering about. He seemed distracted by a particularly annoying quill that had gotten caught on one of his sleeves so Al had patiently waited for the other boy to finish untangling himself before speaking.

"Um, Scorpius –"

"What - !" the Slytherin gasped out in surprise, dropping everything he had finally managed to get under control.

Al sighed. Clearly, this was not a good prelude for what was to come. He only waved his wand, ignoring the slight flinch the Slytherin couldn't surpress, and settled all of the books back in place. "Hi, Scorpius. I just wanted to speak to you about – "

"Ah – um – Al, I'm rather busy right now. Perhaps another time," Scorpius hastily bit out, trying to shoulder his way past the Gryffindor in front of him.

Al really hadn't wanted things to turn out this way. He had hoped his Potions partner would not have a panic attack at sight but clearly he was going to have to use a bit more persuasion. "Look, I'm not going to hurt you or anything. I just wanted to talk about the other day."

"What's there to talk about?" Scorpius snapped, reverting to irritation. "It's pretty clear what you've done."

"Please. I really don't think this is the place to discuss this. We could go back to the Potions room we used to work in to get this sorted out."

Scorpius threw a distrustful look at him. "And I'm supposed to just follow you? Go along with this idea of yours?"

"I swear upon my magic I will not harm you."

There was a silence that was only interrupted by the tell-tale heightened magic to indicate the promise. Then Scorpius sighed and thinned his lips. "Fine."

Al gave him a grateful grin before they made their way down to the lab they had been occupying, completing their project until Halloween had come by. As they stepped in, the musky scent of a room neglected assailed them and Al couldn't help the pang of guilt that squeezed his chest.

Suddenly, he felt tired. Tired of continuously hiding and continuously making excuses. Maybe, just this one time, he could just cut to the chase and hope the best would come.

"I can take it off if you want," Al said, his back still to Scorpius in the manner they had walked in. "I just…panicked back there."

Al didn't hear anything behind him for a long time. Then, he heard a small, shaky breath. "What does it do?"

"Keeps you from talking, from showing it to anybody."

Silence. "That's it?"

Al smiled bitterly to himself. "Nothing much more I can do without some Dark magic, right?"

They were silent again – this time an oppressing one. "What would happen if I said yes?"

"Then I'd take it off."

"And that's really it?" There was skepticism in Scorpius' voice.

Al laughed softly. The Slytherin was right to be skeptical. "No. I'd probably find some other way to keep you quiet."

The Malfoy heir heaved a great sigh before Al heard the thud of books and unconsciously whirled around, ready for an attack.

But none came.

"Fine," Scorpius grumbled, rifling through his papers and pulling out weeks-old documents they had been working on before. "I'll keep it. But only because I have no idea what else you would cook up if I didn't."

Surprise was something that was becoming too much of a friend nowadays for Al. "What?"

Scorpius sighed mockingly and grinned. "I'll keep it, Potter. Now sit down. I think we have a potion alteration fo complete."

~0~

Luke glanced over as a similar figure darted into the same compartment again. He grinned and gave a nod.

"Should we call this another accident, or fate?" he teased. The day's purchases at Knockturn had been profitable, even more books were open to Luke now that he had the basics learned from Professor Snape's library. His muggle informants had also provided some interesting, new developments regarding the weaponry – something Luke had always been fascinated with.

The white haired teen jolted slightly in place before looking over. His electric green eyes portrayed nothing but this time, he did speak. "There is never such a thing as accident."

Well, Luke could take a hint when it came at him. "Trust me, I certainly would not wish to be following _you_ around. I hardly believe trailing a sweaty teenager one of my top priorities."

The teen narrowed his eyes. "You are hardly any older than I am, perhaps younger. What are you always doing here?"

To be honest, Luke had not intentionally been here at all. He had only felt a strange inkling to come back here like he had the last time the Alleys were closed after he had finished his "shopping". It was pure coincidence that they had met again at all.

"I like the view," Luke grinned.

The teen rolled his eyes. "Spare me your egotism."

"Where did you catch egotism? I was merely stating the facts."

"I can recognize a big head when I see one."

Luke grinned. Sometimes it was nice just to talk like he wasn't a Gryffindor at times. "Well then, to apologize for your rudeness, I suggest you buck up with your manners and tell me your name. I think we can officially classify ourselves as…acquaintences."

"We've met twice. For five minutes."

"I've met people once for a few seconds and I consider them acquaintences."

The teen scowled and turned away, looking down at the view of London.

"Why are you always running?"

"None of your business."

Luke sighed and stared up at the roof of the compartment they were in. "Why are you always running _here_?"

There was no answer and Luke contented himself with the silent reply, quietly spending the rest of the ride in contemplative repose.

When the wheel finally came back to the earth and the two of them began to depart, Luke turned back and grinned, "Two weeks from now, same time?"

He got no answer but something told him that he would be seeing the same white-haired figure dashing into the compartment again.

* * *

><p><strong>I know. After so long, this is a ridiculously short chapter. It really is. I cringe as I press the save button on this. But it's been a while since I've gotten going on this again so my creative juices needed a kickstart somehow :) <strong>

**No, Scorpius did not accept his "branding" so easily. I put the whole scene with Snape at the beginning for a reason. Slytherins are far from trusting creatures and remember that Scorpius really is a Slytherin at heart (or a Ravenclaw when it comes to Potions). Things aren't as happy-go-lucky as they seem by the end of the second scene.**

**Did you guess who the white-haired boy is yet? Did you? He's important. I have a nasty feeling it's pretty obvious though. I've never been one for subtlety. Let me know!**

**Till next time! **


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